CHAPTER XXVIII

THE LAST OF THE TRAMPS

The constable was found in the village store, comfortably fixed on a soap box, and narrating for probably the fiftieth time how he had once caught two lumber thieves on the lake single-handed. The crowd had heard the tale many times, but as the constable always added fresh particulars at each telling, they were willing to listen again.

“So you want me, do you?” he said to Samuel Libby and the two young hunters. “All right, I’m your man. What is it, fire away?”

When he was told what was desired he looked grave.

“This ain’t no ordinary case,” he argued. “Them tramps must be des’prit characters. I’ll have to take a posse along.”

“No posse needed, Peabody,” said Farmer Libby. “Take Jim Bowman and myself. Remember, old Joel Runnell is a-watchin’ ’em with four young fellows. Ten men and boys ought to be enough to capture three good-for-nothing tramps.”

“Are you going back with us?” asked the constable of Bart and Harry.

“Certainly we are,” answered Harry. “My brother and I want to learn what became of his watch, if we can.”

It was not long after this that big Jim Bowman was found, a lumberman reputed to be the strongest fellow for miles around. He said he would go willingly, and took with him a stout club.

“Don’t much need it,” he said to the young hunters. “When I get in a mix-up I like to use my fists.”

“Well, it’s a good thing to know how to use your fists sometimes,” answered Bart.

The late moon was now coming up, so the roadway was lighter than it had been. Both Bart and Harry were tired because of all the tramping they had done, yet they did their best to keep up with the others. Jim Bowman led the way, taking strides that no one could have equaled.

“He must know how to handle lumber,” whispered Harry to Bart. “Just notice how muscular he is.”

“It is the constant outdoor life that has made him so strong, Harry.”

On they went until the bypath was gained. The constable had brought along a lantern, but this was not lit, for the rising moon was making it lighter every minute.

At last they halted and Harry gave a low whistle—a signal which had been agreed upon. A low whistle came in return, and almost immediately Joel Runnell came into view. He knew the constable by sight and Samuel Libby personally and nodded to them.

“Haven’t heard anything more out of ’em,” he said. “I’ll guess they think I went away.”

“Any light in the place?” asked the constable.

“Yes, a candle light in the kitchen. I wanted to crawl up and take a peep inside, but thought I wouldn’t risk it, for fear they’d spot me and try to dust out.”

After this the others were called up and a regular council of war ensued. Constable Peabody took charge, and he asked all to march up with him and surround the house. Then, taking Jim Bowman with him, he knocked loudly on the back door.

“Who’s there?” asked a rough voice, and then the voice was changed to an imitation of Ike Slosson’s and the speaker continued: “Go away! I want no strangers here. Go away!”

“Look here, this Tom-foolery won’t do!” cried the constable. “Open the door, or I’ll have it broken down.”

At this there was an added commotion in the house. Two men came to a window and peeped out.

“Hullo! there are half a dozen men out there,” muttered one.

“And they have got guns,” growled the other. “Muley, I reckon de jig’s up.”

“Who are you?” asked Noxy, the man at the door.

“An officer of the law, and I demand that you surrender,” shouted Constable Peabody, pompously.

“Boys, we must skip,” whispered the tramp called Stump. “If we don’t we’re sure to do time.”

“Are you going to open up or not?” demanded the constable.

To this there was no answer.

“Jim, I reckon you had better try your strength,” went on the officer.

The big lumberman was only too willing. He put his shoulder to the door and it went in with a crash.

“Now come out of that, one at a time,” sang out the constable. “And remember, we are ten to three, so it won’t do you any good to fight.”

“Are there ten o’ ’em?” gasped Noxy.

“Shouldn’t wonder,” growled Stump. “That feller who was here before must have told the sheriff. Say, wot are we goin’ to do?”

“Hang me if I know.”

The three tramps stared blankly at one another. They were caught like rats in a trap. They tiptoed their way to the next room, and looked forth from the windows.

“I see four men and boys,” said one.

“An’ three on this side,” came from another. “There must be ten o’ ’em after all. Boys, our goose is cooked.”

“Are you coming out, or have we got to fire on you?” continued Constable Peabody.

“I’ll give ’em a dose of buckshot,” put in Joel Runnell, although he had no idea of firing for the present.

“That’s it,” sang out Joe, who was likewise fooling.

“No! no! don’t shoot!” howled Stump, who was the most cowardly of the trio. “Don’t shoot!”

“Will you come out?”

“Yes.”

“Then come, and put your hands over your head.”

Looking decidedly sheepish the tramp marched out of the house, holding both hands over his head. In a moment Constable Peabody was behind him and had the rascal handcuffed.

“Now you other fellows come out, too,” said the officer. “One at a time, and with your hands up. If you try any funny work I’ll order my men to fire.”

There was a pause for a moment and then Noxy slouched out. He was quickly followed by Muley, who looked as if he wanted very much to run away. But the tramps were given no chance to escape, and soon all were tightly handcuffed.

“Well, how do you like the situation?” asked Joe, as he faced Muley. “Can’t you tell me what time it is?”

The tramp looked at the young hunter and then fell back a step.

“You!” he gasped.

“I say, can’t you tell me what time it is? If you’ll remember, you have my watch and chain.”

“Say dis beats de nation,” murmured Muley. “Did youse fellers follow us up?”

“We did.”

“What have you done with my brother’s watch?” asked Harry.

“I ain’t got de watch,” growled the tramp. But later on, when he was searched, the watch and chain were found in his pocket, he having no chance to sell or pawn the articles.

While this talk was going on Constable Peabody was questioning Stump and Noxy about what had been done to Ike Slosson. At first neither of the tramps wanted to talk, but at last Stump confessed that they had gotten the old man away from home by delivering to him a bogus telegram, stating that a rich relative had died in Springfield and that there was much money awaiting him. The hermit had been just simple-minded enough to go away, and as soon as he was gone they had taken possession of his house, where they had expected to remain until it was time for Slosson to get back.

“Well, you’ll not stay here any longer,” said Constable Peabody, grimly. “You’ll spend a good part of the future in the lockup, if I know anything about it.”

“I reckon I missed it when I took dat young man’s watch an’ chain,” said Muley, with a hitch of his shoulders. “But I never t’ought he’d follow us like dis, never.”

Another conference was held, and as a result it was decided that the constable, assisted by big Jim Bowman and Farmer Libby, should march the prisoners to a temporary lockup and later transfer them to the Lakeport jail, there to await the action of the court. It may be added here that this was done, and the three tramps received sentences which kept them from doing further harm for some time to come.

“Well, we won out that time,” said Joe, as the young hunters and Joel Runnell started, the next day, for the camp on Pine Island. “I am glad we went after those tramps before they had a chance to leave Ike Slosson’s house.”

“We’ll have to give Teddy credit,” said Harry. “He’s the one who made this capture possible.” And the Irish lad was warmly praised, much to his satisfaction.