Throughout pretty much that livelong afternoon, Hugh, Alec, Billy, and a few others went on with their self-imposed task. The red paint was so primed that it would dry quickly, so that there was little likelihood of their labor going for naught because of mischievous boys smearing it with sticks or dirt while still wet.
All over town those cans stood out prominently to remind the shiftless of their duties. That blazing color had been adopted because red is the recognised danger signal with all railroads and places where peril is apt to abound. It is also the color that angers the charging bull in the arena; and possibly those bright-hued receptacles would taunt Lige Corbley and his followers, so as to keep alive their spirit of destruction longer than might otherwise be the case.
Feeling as though they had had a pretty hard day, the painting squad finally completed their task and went home to clean up. They had reason to feel satisfied with what had been accomplished since early morning; and yet Hugh knew the end was not yet in sight. In fact, the fight had hardly more than begun.
They had a difficult task ahead of them to keep what they had won. If Lige Corbley and his crowd started to turn things upside down again, they must be taught a lesson not soon forgotten.
This was what worried Hugh most of all. He could not forget that blood ran thicker than water, and hence the Chief must naturally be influenced by the fact that a near relative of his was among the offenders. While he might appear to be very vigilant, there were lots of ways in which his force could shut their eyes to what was going on. Hugh had talked this matter over with Mrs. Marsh after the Chief had left them, and she had assured him that the mayor was very much in earnest, promising that if the police did not perform their duties in a satisfactory manner he would see to it that there was an immediate change in their head.
It seemed as though the telephone were fated to play a very prominent part in all the doings of that day. It had carried scores upon scores of messages back and forth connected with the new movement for the cleaning up of the town, since Hugh himself first learned of the upheaval in the park over the wire. It came to pass that Hugh had just completed taking his bath, and, dressed in his newer suit of khaki, was taking it easy in the sitting-room while waiting for supper to be announced, when he was told that some one wanted to speak with him on the ’phone.
Thinking, of course, that it must be Billy or one of the other scouts, wishing information, perhaps, connected with their intention for that night’s meeting, Hugh was somewhat surprised to hear an unfamiliar voice address him.
“Is this Hugh Hardin?”
“It is,” he at once replied.
“Well, never mind asking who’s talking to you, because I don’t mean to give my name,” continued the other hastily. “I’m a boy, and one you know. I’m not a member of the scouts, though I hope to be one of these days. Now, I wanted to warn you that I’m afraid you’re in for a heap of trouble, perhaps to-night, about this thing of cleaning up the town. How do I know? Well, I’m only giving a guess, but chances are it’s a good one. I saw Lige Corbley talking like everything to a bunch of his kind. There were several fellows on deck that don’t generally train with him; but they acted like they’d joined forces. All I heard was something to the effect that they’d ‘show him what they thought of his silly old proclamation.’ I reckoned that might mean the mayor, so p’raps they’ve got it in for him good and hard. That’s all I know, and I don’t want to hold the wire any longer. You needn’t try to find out who I am, because I don’t want to be thanked, and by the same token I don’t mean to take any chances of those fellows learning who gave their game away. So-long, Hugh!”