“Won’t Uncle Aaron be tickled to death?” chortled Teddy. “Glory, hallelujah!”
“What are these, I wonder,” asked the constable as he looked over a package of papers.
“Why don’t you say we stole those, too?” snarled the tall prisoner.
“Well, didn’t you?” asked the constable sarcastically.
“No, we didn’t,” was the sullen reply. “We found them in an open road near a bridge—”
“A bridge!” interrupted Teddy, pricking up his ears. “Let’s see them.”
They spread out the papers. They were greasy and dirty from long carrying, but the boys’ hearts leaped as they saw on them the name of Aaron Rushton.
They looked at each other. Then they shouted.
“Hang out the flags!” cried Teddy. “Fire the cannon! Ring the bells! Say, Fred, is this our lucky day, or isn’t it?”
“You bet your life!” gloated Fred. “What is the nearest way to the telegraph station?” he asked, turning to the constable.