“Says he’ll be over here within an hour,” he announced, hanging up the receiver. “No; he didn’t seem surprised, Bob. I guess the captain is too old to be surprised at anything.”
The crowd took seats on a bench, their lively conversation soon helping to cheer up the dejected Joe Rodgers. But even then he found the long wait trying to his nerves.
At length Uncle Ralph tramped noisily into the room.
“It just shows how careful one must be in forming new acquaintances, boys,” he chuckled. “I’ve only known you for a few days—yet here I find myself in a police station, and all on your account. What’s to be done, sergeant, with such a reckless lot?”
“That’s a hard one to answer,” grinned the official.
“Well, now, let’s get right down to business. When will Mr. Whiffin be here? I’ve become interested in this boy, sergeant, and I don’t propose to let all the talking be on one side.”
“By Jingo, if you’ll only stand up for me, mister, I’ll never forgit it!” cried Joe.
“I hope you’re going to make a base hit, Rodgers,” laughed Tom.
“Mr. Whiffin will be here to-morrow morning,” explained the sergeant. “Until then the boy will have to remain with us.”
“And I’ll be here, too, with this strong-arm squad,” laughed the captain, “ready to face the manager of Spudger’s Peerless show.”