All the stories he had ever heard of ghosts and banshees and the “little people” came into his head. He half wished he hadn’t come. The shadows were so very black, and all was so still. There was no one about, and not the faintest sound to be heard.
“A Cub does not give in to himself.” The words of the Cub Law suddenly came into his head. He felt the little brass badge in his buttonhole, and it gave him courage. With a kick he sent his scooter on, and passed out of the moonlight into the shadow of the trees.
Hullo! what was that sound? A noise of breaking glass and splintering wood, as if someone had jumped through a window—running feet in the garden—a hoarse shout—now a long, shrill blast from a policeman’s whistle—more running behind the wall—then the sound of another policeman running down the road to the help of his comrade!
Pat forgot his fears. Here was a real adventure!
Then, suddenly, just ahead, a dark figure appeared in the moonlight, crouching on the top of the wall. A moment later the policeman had dashed up. Like a tiger springing on his prey, the man leapt down on him, knocking him flat, and then began running down the hill at top speed.
A second policeman had come up, and, seeing the running figure, made after him. But it was a hopeless chase. The man had had a good start, and he was a swift runner. Besides, the policeman was rather fat.
Suddenly a thought flashed into Pat’s mind, and his heart grew big with courage. He would help the policeman in his work—that would be some good turn!
Placing his right foot firmly on his scooter, he kicked off violently with his left. In a moment he was shooting like a flash down the steep hill. It was a dangerous job. He squatted down and balanced carefully. He had never been at such a speed in his life.
In half a minute he had overtaken the policeman. The man, hearing the following footsteps flagging, had reduced his speed a little. Pat’s rubber wheels made no sound on the smooth road. Nearer and nearer he drew to the flying thief. Now he was very near. He set his teeth and steered his scooter straight for the man.
Crash! The scooter and its small rider had hurled themselves against his legs. With a yell of terror and pain the great figure crashed to the ground, Pat on top of it, the scooter flying out into the road. Without a moment’s hesitation he scrambled free of the man’s legs, and sat with all his weight on the furious burglar’s head. The man struggled violently, but one of his arms was caught under him, and Pat was bending the other back in a most painful position. Before long the policeman was up, and had the prisoner handcuffed.