He changed his grip on the boy, from the latter's collar to one wrist, which he held firmly.
"Pick up your stuff," he said, "and come along with me. No use jumping that way. I've got you, all right."
Little Tim, thinking over his sins, reached down and picked up the can of bait.
"I haven't done anything to hurt," he repeated.
"Hm!" exclaimed the colonel. "Reckon you've done a lot of things to hurt, if people only knew it. Here, I'll take that can. You carry your pole. Now come along."
"What for?" asked Tim, obeying the colonel's command to "come along" with him.
"I'll show you what I want," replied Colonel Witham. "You know well enough, I guess, without any of my telling. Oh, I know you'll say you don't; but I don't care anything about that. Just come along."
They proceeded out to the road, whence they turned and went in the direction of the inn. Tim thought of the pumpkin, and his heart sank. He was going to "catch it" for that, he thought.
They came up to the flag-staff presently, and Tim repressed a chuckle with difficulty; for there, as on the night they had sent it aloft, hung the big pumpkin, grinning down on them both.
"There," said Colonel Witham, "you didn't have any hand in that—oh, no! You wouldn't do it, of course. You never did nothing to hurt. I know you. But see here, youngster"—and he gave a twist to Tim's wrist—"you've got to get it down, do you understand?"