“Ask him,” I said to the guard, “what is the name of his camera.”
“You saucy young villain, I don’t propose to be questioned about this any longer!” said the man, and he turned to walk away. But that decided the guard.
“No, sir!” he said. “You’ll come with me, and we’ll have this question settled.”
The man looked around quick, as if he was wondering what the chances were if he should run for it; but the guard laid his hand on the man’s shoulder, and the swindler then decided to brazen it out.
“Very good,” he said, looking at his watch; “I shall lose my train, but I suppose this absurd matter must be disposed of.”
“But I thought you wanted a permit for your camera?” said the guard, with a grin; and then the man bit his lip. That time he made a mistake.
The guard went to a sort of little sentry-box, and sent out a signal. Pretty soon a patrol-wagon came driving up, and we were taken in it outside of the grounds to a police-station.
“Officer,” said the man to the sergeant (I suppose it was), “this foolish boy has laid claim to my camera, and—”
ALONG THE LAKE.