Part 16 (1/2)
”Hey, you let me alone!” growled the burly fellow. He was ragged and unshaven and evidently a tramp.
”Where did you come from?” went on Dave, and he continued to hold the man, while the train moved off.
”Wot business is that o' yours?” was the sulky return. ”Wot did yer make me miss that train for?”
”You'll find out in a minute or two,” answered our hero, and just then Officer Anderson came running up.
”Got somebody, have you?” he panted.
”I guess he is only a tramp,” was Dave's reply. ”But we may as well hold him and see what he has got to say.”
”It's Applejack Joe,” said the policeman, as he eyed the prisoner. ”We warned him out of town this morning. What was he going to do, steal a ride?”
”I think so. I caught him making for the trucks of a baggage car.”
”That's Joe's favorite way of riding,” chuckled the policeman.
”I can't see why that young feller had to stop me,” growled the tramp.
”You folks wants me to git out, an' when I start yer hold me back.”
”Why didn't you go this morning, if you were told to go?” asked Dave.
”Say, I don't move as swift as some folks. Wot's the use? Take yer time, is my motter.”
”Where have you been for the last three or four hours?” asked the policeman.
”Where have I been? It won't do you no good to know, cap'n.”
”Well, you tell us, just the same,” said Dave. ”I want to know if you have seen any other men sneaking around town to-night. If you have, it may pay you to tell me about it.”
”Provided we can land on those other chaps,” put in the officer.
”Oh, I see; somethin' wrong, hey?” And the tramp leered unpleasantly.
”Want to pull me into it, mebbe.”
”You are pulled in already,” answered Officer Anderson.
”Oh, don't arrest me, an' I'll tell you everything I know!” pleaded Applejack Joe. He had once been in the Crumville jail in winter and found it very cold and uninviting, and he wanted no more of it.
”What do you know?” questioned Dave. ”Answer quick. There has been a big robbery here, and if you can help us to catch the men maybe you'll get a reward.”
”Reward? Say, I'm your huckleberry, young man. Wot do I know?” The tramp rubbed his unshaven chin. ”Yes, that's them, I'm sure of it,” he murmured, half to himself.
”Who?” demanded Dave, impatiently.
”Them two fellers I see down at Casterbury's stock-farm this afternoon.
They had a bag wot looked suspicious to me, an', say; did they use dynamite, or somethin' like that?”
”They did!”