Part 3 (2/2)

”If I could get that wallet!” he thought; but it was kept pretty close to the sheriff.

Eben crawled a little nearer, sheltered by the thick undergrowth of the wood.

He cut a long stick and-held it ready to use if he should be discovered, for he fancied they would not be very lenient with him if he should be caught.

The sheriff and his posse sat talking, and telling of their deeds of daring. Each one seemed to try to out-bid the other for bravery.

The conversation became animated, and a strange idea entered the listener's head.

He crawled still nearer, taking care that he did not move far without resting, so that he might be sure he was not observed.

He pushed his stick a little closer to the wallet, and found that he only needed to be six inches nearer.

After a little more inaction he wriggled his body a few inches farther, and then, quickly and almost silently, with his stick drew the wallet toward him.

He secured it, and fastened it under his vest, the safest place he could think of.

Backward he crawled, as noiselessly as possible, until he reached a clump of sumach bushes. Then he rose to his feet and ran.

Eben was a child of nature, and, as Ira Allen had said, he would be useful in carrying a message quickly.

He had been in the possession of the wallet less than five minutes when the sheriff proposed that the journey should be continued.

He sprang to his feet, and looked for the wallet; he could not see it in the long gra.s.s.

He felt in his pockets, but it was not there.

”I say, men, that isn't a fair joke.”

”What isn't?”

”Who has the wallet?”

”Now, that's a good one! Who should have it but the sheriff?”

”Come, a joke's a joke, but don't carry it too far.”

”What do you mean?”

”One of you has got the wallet, and the writs of dispossess are in it.”

”I haven't.”

”Neither have I.”

”One of you must have got it.”

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