Of course it was some time before the excitement quieted down, and the Ramblers, on foot, gathered by the side of the wagon. Trooper Witmar surveyed the crowd with a quizzical smile.
“One might think,” he remarked, “that you chaps hadn’t seen each other for a month.”
“I guess it does look that way,” laughed Dave. He glanced at Tom. “I guess you’ve had a rather quiet time of it, eh?”
“Quiet time!” cried Tom. “Well, I rather think not! I had the fight of my life.”
This startling announcement immediately brought to a stop a volley of inquiries relative to the wagon and the presence of the trooper. Dick Travers, who had just uttered the word “Smugglers!” echoing a terse observation of the policeman, turned to stare at Tom in the utmost amazement.
“A scrap—a real scrap?” he cried, wonderingly.
“It certainly was a real scrap!” And Tom, who hugely enjoyed the sensation he had created, launched forth.
His tale held his listeners spellbound; and this time the Rambler did not forget a single point.
Numerous were the exclamations which punctuated his remarks.
“Well, that’s certainly a story with a punch to it!” cried Dick Travers.