"Not yet."
"Clyde Blacklock, answer me truly," said Scott, solemnly. "Did you steal it?"
"Answer him," said the candidate's conductor, in a low voice.
"Steal what?" asked Clyde.
"The bag out of which a faithless Brother of the Most Respectable Order of Bangwhangers let the cat," added the C. B., tragically.
"No, I didn't."
"Let him be searched!" continued Scott, in a sepulchral tone.
Whereupon the officers, who had silently gathered around the candidate, began to punch him in the ribs, and under the ears, not to hurt, but only to tickle him. As Clyde was sensitive in this direction, as almost anybody would be when taken by surprise, the effect was very decided, and the candidate wriggled, and squirmed, and roared.
"He has it I We have found it upon him!" said the R. P. F., suddenly.
"Hah!" cried Scott. "The vile Indian is guilty."