Part 36 (1/2)
”Go on in, Leech,” answered the leader of the Gun Club, firmly. ”If you try to run away I'll surely shoot you.”
”What does this mean?” demanded Aaron Masterson.
”This is the rascal who ran off with our outfit, Mr. Masterson,”
answered Snap.
”And we mean to make him a prisoner,” added Shep. ”Kiddy Leech, don't you dare to resist, or it will be that much worse for you.”
The tramp was caught between two fires, as it were, and did not know what to do. As we know, he was a good deal of a coward at heart, and the sight of the shotgun in Snap's hands made him quake.
”Don't shoot me!” he whined. ”Please don't shoot me!” And he held up his hands in token of submission.
”So you are the pesky rascal the lads was a-tellin' me about,” said Aaron Masterson, sternly. ”Nice doin's, I must say!”
The door was closed and locked, so that Kiddy Leech might not make his exit in a hurry. The tramp was in a decidedly perplexed frame of mind and blamed himself roundly for not having been more careful.
”What are you going to do with me?” he asked, as he stood in a corner.
”We are going to hand you over to the police,” answered Snap. ”It is no more than you deserve.”
”I didn't mean no harm,--indeed, I didn't!
”I suppose you think it no harm to steal!” said Shep, sarcastically.
”I wasn't stealing your things.”
”You were!”
”No, I wasn't. I was--er--only going to hide 'em on you.”
”You went a mighty long way to do it,” said Snap, coldly. ”Where were you going to hide them, at the second-hand shop or the p.a.w.n-broker's?”
”I'm telling the plain truth. Why, I never stole a thing in my life!”
exclaimed Kiddy Leech.
”Not even when you ran away from our camp that first time,” said the doctor's son. ”How can you expect us to believe you? It is a waste of breath on your part.”
”If I can prove that it wasn't my doings--that is--that I am not the responsible party, will you let me go?” demanded Kiddy Leech, eagerly.
”We want to hear your story first,” said the doctor's son.
”If this here feller stole them things, as you say he did, the best thing to do is to tote him off to the lock-up,” interposed Aaron Masterson. ”He's evidently tryin' to make up a slick yarn so as to git off.”
”Aaron, you can't take him to the town jail to-night, it's too late,”
said the farmer's wife. ”Remember, the travelin' is powerful bad, too.”
”Then I reckon we can tie him up in the barn till mornin',” answered her husband, with an inquiring look at the two young hunters.