THE RAID
The sun was up when Pete Sledge knocked on the kitchen door of Moosehead House. The door was locked. He knocked with his knuckles, then with a stick of stove-wood. It was Jard who at last unlocked and yanked open the door, but Miss Hassock wasn’t far behind him.
“What the devil?” cried Jard; and then, in milder tones, “So it’s yourself, Pete! Glad to see you, but what’s your hurry so early in the mornin’?”
“They got ’im!” exclaimed Pete. “They’ve got the stranger—them Danglers. I seen it, so I come a-jumpin’.”
“What’s that? Who? What stranger? Come along in here an’ set down an’ tell it right.”
“The sport. The lad with the trick pants. The feller who drug Joe Hinch out of bed the night of the fire. That’s who. I seen it.”
“Vane? Yer crazy! He’s in bed in this house, or if he ain’t he’d ought to be.”
“You’d better go see,” said Miss Hassock, turning to the stove and setting a match to the kindlings.
Jard ran. Pete sat down. Jard returned at top speed.
“He ain’t there!” he cried. “What was that you said, Pete? When did it happen? What did they do with him?”