“Wall then, yer better crawl through that little winder up thar in front and git it,” he said.
“I don’t have to get it,” I told him; “go and get it yourself if you want it. You must have been reading dime novels if you think that boys like us help convicts to escape. If you tear down those doors you’ll put them up again, I’ll tell you that.”
Just then along came a man with a brass badge on about as big as a saucer. I said to Pee-wee, “Look what he’s hiding.” He had an axe, too. There were a lot of people crowding all about him. One of them said, “It’s a pretty desperate attempt, Constabule.” The man said, “I’ll have him behind the bars in about a jiffy. These boys is accessories, that’s what they are.”
“Accessories are things that come with motor-boats,” the kid whispered to me.
I said, “Well, we’re the kind of accessories that come with motor vans. This is some circus; Brent will get his wish and go to jail, all right. There’s no use getting scared.”
By that time everything was excitement. People came running out of houses and crowded around the van and stared at Pee-wee and me. Gee whiz, I don’t know where all the people came from. All the while the dog kept clawing at the doors of the van and barking and yelping. I wondered how Brent felt inside the van. In about five minutes the whole town was out, gaping and talking, all excited.
The constable said to us, “Naow then, you youngsters, you been compoundin’ a felony, that’s what you been doin’. Now who’s inside that van? Who yer hidin’? Somebody, hey?”
“I’m not denying anything,” I told him. “All I say is we didn’t break any law.”
“Wall, yer admit yer concealin’ somebody in thar, ain’t yer—huh?” he shouted.
I said, “I’m not denying it, but I’m not scared of you.”