As Patsy once more leaped to get into the barn and try conclusions with Cricket, a currycomb caught him in the shoulder.
“Never touched me!” shouted Patsy.
The next instant he and Cricket were having it rough and tumble on the barn floor.
Patsy had strength, and science as well, and was not long in placing the robber in chancery.
“That’ll do,” said Cricket; “you’re too many for me.”
“Where are your guns?” demanded Patsy.
“Dropped ’em,” panted Cricket. “They wasn’t any good, anyhow.”
“Got a knife?”
“No.”
“You’re another!”