“‘Well, what the dickens are you doing here, Eaton?’ he asked.
“‘Having my fortune told,’ said I. ‘And I don’t like the way it’s turning out.’
“Well, Whiting had three friends with him—they were touring, it seemed—and it wasn’t more than half a minute until I was in the car with them. The Gipsies didn’t want to let me go. They said I’d been caught stealing; they can talk good enough English when they want to; and they were going to have me arrested. But the fellows said I was a particular friend of theirs, and they couldn’t spare me. Whiting sort of wanted to get out and break up the camp, but I told him I knew something that would be more fun than that. So we went on, and I told him all about everything; how I’d found the stolen things and the money, and all we had to do was to get the sheriff and go back there and get them. Whiting said they weren’t in any particular hurry, and they’d run over to Washington Hills and bring the sheriff back. So we did it. Found the sheriff washing up for supper, got him into the car, and hustled him back. The rest was easy. He just showed those Gipsies his badge and the handle of his revolver, and they said, ‘Welcome to our city.’ We hunted through the whole place and got everything except a few cans of vegetables and two strips of bacon. Then the sheriff threatened to arrest every one if they didn’t pay up for what was missing and move out of the township before to-morrow night. And they agreed to everything. We threw the booty into the automobile, said good night, and kited for the store.”
“Well, you had a busy and eventful afternoon,” said the doctor, when Chub had ended. “It was a lucky thing that your friends came just as they did. I’m afraid you’d have fared badly otherwise.”
“I don’t believe they’d have hurt me, sir,” answered Chub. “You see, they didn’t know I’d taken the money; they didn’t find that out until the sheriff told them. And I don’t believe they’d have thought of it. I think they’d have let me go after a while.”
“It did me good,” laughed Dick, “to see the expression on old Jim Ewing’s face when you lugged the stuff into the store. He was a picture.”
“The old ruffian!” growled Roy.
“Well, he saw the error of his way,” said Chub, cheerfully. “And he came as near apologizing as it was possible for him to, I suppose.”
“Said he’d made a mistake; we could have told him that before,” muttered Roy. “I hope he—” Roy glanced at the doctor and gulped. “I hope he loses his train.” The others laughed.
“Well, Mrs. Peel apologized for him, anyway,” said Dick. “She’s a nice old lady. She was so excited she didn’t know what was happening, especially when Whiting bought the dozen cans of tomatoes. What did he want with those, Chub?”