“Here’s the packet Mr. Pemberton lost, and I suppose the valuables are all safe inside, eh, Waddy?” he said, holding up something small he carried.
“Never touched a thing in it. Them other pieces of silver we swiped out of the farmhouse, and anything else you find come from that storage house over in Newtonport. We was after something big there, but missed it,” admitted the boy from the reform school, with unblushing effrontery.
Loud calls were now heard close by. Bluff lifted his tuneful voice and shouted:
“This way, Mr. Dodd. Everything lovely, and the goose hangs high. We’ve got ’em safe and sound. Here’s your men, sir. Step right up and put the irons on ’em!”
Biffins had not said a word up to now. The smoke had taken all desire to talk away from him; but he proved that he could swear like a pirate. No doubt what galled him most of all was the fact that his capture had been brought about through the instrumentality of a parcel of boys.
The crashing of the undergrowth became plainer. Then a party of men could be seen hurrying forward as fast as the tangled thickets would allow.
Mr. Dodd, the sheriff, was at their head. As he saw the two tramp thieves lying on the ground, helpless, he gave a roar. Rushing up to the boys, he shook the hand of each one in turn.
“Bully work, boys! I’m proud to know you, proud to say you live in the same town as I do! Hello, Biffins! So it’s you, eh? Well, this time we’ve got you dead to rights, and you don’t get off. And here’s Waddy Walsh, broke loose from the school he was sent to to learn to become a decent man. Back you go, my fine lad, this time to stay.”
So he rattled on, as he proceeded to clap a pair of neat steel bracelets on the wrists of each of the prisoners.
After that he went into the cabin and thoroughly searched it.