The troopers decided to accost the man from the outside exit, rather than subjecting the Cubs to possible gunfire.
With weapons drawn, the two officers flung wide the double cellar doors.
“Come out or we’ll shoot!” the order was given.
The Cubs thought the tramp might defy the officers. However, in a moment he came out of his dark hole, hands raised.
Officer Peterson snapped a pair of handcuffs over the man’s wrists and marched him into the house.
“Your name?” he demanded.
“Carl Blakemore.” The tramp blinked owlishly, his gaze roving from one face to another.
“You’ve been living in a shack near here?”
“I’ve been sleeping there nights,” the man muttered.
“You’re under arrest for stealing money from the home of Sam Hatfield. Anything to say?”