Holding fast to the pole, he cut the rope that held the pumpkin. It fell, grazing one of his knees, and would have dislodged him had he not guarded against it. The next moment, it landed with a crash at the base and was shattered into fragments.
Little Tim laboriously loosened the knot Harvey had tied, and let the halyard run free. A moment more, and he was on the ground with Colonel Witham.
The colonel eyed the wreck of the hobgoblin with satisfaction. Then he turned to Tim.
"You're a smart little rascal," he said, "and a plucky one. I'll say that for you. There's your fish-pole and your can."
Colonel Witham paused, and reluctantly put his hand in his trousers pocket. With still greater reluctance, he drew forth a twenty-five cent piece and tendered it to the boy.
"Here," he said, "it's a lot of money, but I won't say as you haven't earned it."
To Colonel Witham's astonishment, however, the boy shook his head.
"I don't want any money," he said. "I wouldn't take it for that."
Another moment, he had slipped into shoes and stockings, snatched up his pole and can, and was walking quickly down the road.
Little Tim had a conscience.