The policeman, looking searchingly at each in turn, took from his pocket a memorandum book. Then, glancing over the pages, gave a grunt of approval.
“Correct, all right. Descriptions and license number correspond.”
This information, while interesting, did not enlighten the boys as to the meaning of his strange action.
“Would you have any objection to telling us why we’ve been stopped?” drawled Dave, from the rear.
“I don’t think we ought to stand for anything like this,” growled Tom, bristling up in a very threatening fashion.
“Which one o’ ’em shall I chuck out o’ the car for yer?” inquired Joe. “You kin take any but the fat feller.”
The officer glanced at him and wagged his head knowingly.
“The police station is just around the corner, boys,” he answered, quietly. “I reckon the sergeant will tell you what it’s all about.”
“The idea! Just listen to that!” stormed Tom. “I’d demand an explanation right here, Bob Somers. Don’t let those spokes move even as much as half an inch.”
“If there’s any fightin’ to be done I’m right here to help you,” laughed Joe.