It was taken as an affirmative. The boys believed the thief was found, and were mad against him. Vale spoke something, shaking and trembling like the leaves in the wind, but his words were drowned. He was not brave, and they looked ready to tear him to pieces.
“My half-crown, Vale,” roared Tod. “Did you take it just now?”
Vale made no answer; I thought he could not. His face frightened me; the lips were blue and drawn, his teeth chattered.
“Search his pockets.”
It was a simultaneous thought, for a dozen said it. Vale was turned out, and half-a-crown found upon him; no other money. The boys yelled and groaned. Tod, with his great strength, pushed them aside, as the coin was flung to him.
“Shall I resume possession of this half-crown?” he asked of Vale, holding it before him in defiant mockery.
“If you like. I——”
Vale broke down with a gasp and a sob. His piteous aspect might have moved even Tod.
“Look here,” said he, “I don’t care in general to punish a coward; I regard him as an abject animal beneath me: but I cannot go from my word. Ducking is too good for you, Vale, but you shall have it. Be off to that tree yonder; we’ll give you so much grace. Let him start fair, boys, and then hound him on. It will be a fine chase.”