“Why did you hide there?”
“We was skeered when we got here, and seen the fire,” came the answer.
“Then the bridge was burning, was it, when you came along?” continued the sheriff.
“It shore was,” the boy told him, positively.
“Were these boys around at that time?”
The boy stared at Hugh and Blake and Bud, then he grinned. “Nixey, they wasn’t. They kim hurryin’ along, and fit the fire like wildcats. Yuh jest orter seen how they slashed and slashed around till every bit o’ flames was done fur. Me’n Sally jest hid there in the bushes an’ watched the fun. It was better’n the movin’ picture fire I seen down in Hallettsburg.”
“Huh! that ought to settle the case against us, I should think,” laughed Bud as the boy finished his recital, which, though framed in ungrammatical language, loomed as high as any speech ever delivered before a judge in an appeal to free the accused before the bar.
The sheriff threw up his hands.
“Boys,” said he, briskly, “you win. Instead of plucking you, and running you in for attempted arson, I’m goin’ to thank you most heartily on behalf of the village of Scroggs Corners, which I happened to be visiting this afternoon on business. Only for your efficient work we’d have been a bridge shy tonight. Shake hands with me, and kindly excuse my excess zeal that might have worked you all an injury.”
Well, the boys bore no malice. They were only too happy to know that nothing was going to interfere with their onward progress. In fact, they felt as though victors in the brisk engagement between this clever foe and themselves. It was likely to be the last expiring effort of the unscrupulous schemer; after this he would have to give up the attempt to keep them from the camp until sufficient time had elapsed to destroy all hopes of Felix making his peace with his uncle.