“I didn’t know what to do. I used a little to buy food. Oh, I was weak all right—I admit it. But it’s the truth I never intended to steal from my own uncle. I know you won’t believe my story.”
“On the contrary, everything you have told us tallies with the facts as we know them,” Mr. Hatfield assured him.
“Well, that’s my story and it’s all there is to it,” the tramp said, making a despairing gesture with his hands. “You may as well take me off to jail now.”
The troopers escorted the man to the waiting car. As the man left the home, he paused in the doorway to direct a word to the Cubs.
“No hard feelings, boys,” he said. “You fellows made it plenty tough for me, but I’m not blaming anyone except myself. I led a useless life and I got what’s coming to me!”
After the car had driven away, Mr. Hatfield told the Cubs they must return to Webster City without further delay. So much time had elapsed that he was afraid lest their parents worry.
“Jack, we owe you a lot,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand. “Through your cooperation, my name will be completely cleared, and Mr. Merrimac will have his money again. Many thanks not only from me but from all the Cubs.”
“Sure, that’s okay,” the boy replied in deep embarrassment. He hesitated, and then with a darting glance at Mrs. Jones asked: “Are you going to send me back to the Institute?”
“Send you back?” Mrs. Jones demanded with a quick laugh which had real affection. “Why, Jack! What an idea! I need you here to help me.”
“You do? You aren’t just saying it?” said Jack.