"Well, come along then," exclaimed Mr. Cook. "We'll get it and go straight down to police headquarters now."
"Don't you think our friend the detective will make a report?" asked Hugh.
"Possibly. Still, as Bob says, those men are sometimes very jealous and he might not tell the whole story, particularly about what you did."
A few moments later all three were on their way to the police station. Bob's old friend, Sergeant Riley, was still behind the desk and gave them a jovial greeting.
"Yez haven't got no Germans for me, have yez?" he demanded.
"No," said Mr. Cook, "we haven't, but we can tell you where to get some."
"Sounds interesting," said the sergeant laying aside his pen and carefully blotting the sheet of paper on which he had been writing. "Tell me about it."
"Go ahead, Bob," his father urged. "Tell your story, and first of all let
Sergeant Riley feel the bump on your head. That'll convince him."
"It would indade," exclaimed the sergeant, after examining the swelling on Bob's head. "Not that I'd ever doubt anything a son of yours told me, Misther Cook."
Bob related the events of that day to Sergeant Riley. The police officer listened attentively and interestedly until Bob came to the part about the detective. As he began to tell of that the sergeant started perceptibly.