“Well, we are on the track of the thieves,” said Pep, “and we’ve got to run them to cover. Can you put us up for to-night, mister?”
The farmer looked the boys over critically. Pep had taken out his pocketbook and that had some influence.
“I calculate I can,” he said. “How do I know, though, that you hain’t in cahoots with the crowd that took that bee hive, come to get hold of something more?”
“I guess I haven’t got as honest a face as you have,” replied Pep naively. “If I had, you’d trust me. Here,” and he extended the pocketbook. “There’s over a hundred dollars there. You can keep it as security until morning to feel safe that we won’t make away with your property.”
“Put it up, put it up,” said the farmer, hastily, shamed by the boyish appeal of Pep and a glance at the wistful, appealing eyes of Vic. “I was only fooling. You can stay, and if you’ll agree to let me know if you get track of them robbers it’ll cost you nothing.”
“Oh, we will surely do that,” promised Pep, “but we want to pay for what we eat.”
“None of that—I’ve said my say,” retorted the farmer. “Just sit down on the stoop till I shut up the tool house and I’ll take you in to marm.”
“What are you thinking of, Pep?” at once inquired Vic, as left alone with him his companion’s face was crossed by a reflective smile.
“I’m thinking that we’re ‘getting warm,’” replied Pep, briskly. “No regular thief would drive away with only one bee hive. He’d take two or a dozen. To my way of thinking, that mottled horse we are after carted away that bee hive to some movies camp near here to get up ‘an educational film.’”
“I’ll bet you’ve hit it!” cried Vic Belton, hopefully.