“Bluff,” said Piper—“pure bluff. He’s your pal, and, doubtless, the leader of the gang who broke into the Oakdale bank last night and blew open the vault. Poor job, that. It’s tough to be pinched without ever having lifted a dollar from that bank.”
“You’re a wise young brat!” sneered the man.
“Hark!” exclaimed Hooker at this moment, rising quickly to his feet. “I hear voices. It must be some of the searchers.”
“I hope so,” said Sleuth, who likewise could hear the sound of voices, evidently approaching. “I’ll keep this fellow covered, Roy. See who they are.”
It proved to be a posse headed by Constable Abel Hubbard. From this armed body of men the captive had fled, having discovered them ahead of him in the woods. Hooker, seeing and recognizing the men, raised a shout that brought them hurrying to the gully, and soon the two boys were vainly trying to answer a score of questions hurled at them promiscuously.
“Well, I swan to man!” spluttered Constable Hubbard when he presently understood the situation. “I swan to man, if these two younkers ain’t ketched one of the rascals! That’s purty clever work for boys, feller citizens.”
With scarcely an exception they agreed that it was, and Sleuth and Roy were showered with congratulations.
“We’re rather glad you turned up, constable,” said Piper pompously. “It relieves us of the trouble of marching this poor wretch back to the lockup. We’ll turn him over to you with the understanding that we’re to receive the reward, in case there’s one offered for his apprehension.”
After a time the prisoner was lifted to his feet and boosted out of the gully, to be marched away toward town by the rejoicing posse. The shortest route was pursued, which led them down across the fields to the Barville road and thence into Lake Street.
Piper and Hooker followed.