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"Do you think the boy got aboard one of them?" "No, I don't," answered his companion. "He is too determined a lad to give up so easily. He must be still looking for us." Caven was right, Joe and his newly-made friend were still in the woods, doing their best to locate the two rascals.
Dickerson would drive back to the Hall with us and tell Captain Putnam of what he knows." "And see if he can identify Caven," finished Sam. "Are you willing to do that, Mr. Dickerson?" "Well, to tell the truth, I've got some business to attend to now," was the slow reply. "I am sure Captain Putnam will pay you for your trouble," went on Sam. "If he won't, we will."
"But I don't see any." It grew still darker, and the rain came down in perfect sheets. The roof of the barn leaked, and they had to move from one spot to another, to keep out of the drippings. While this was going on Gaff Caven was working at the handkerchief that bound his wrists and soon had it loose. Pat Malone also liberated himself. Caven winked suggestively at his confederate.
"Run!" yelled Caven, and leaped for the open doorway. Malone came beside him, and both ran off through the rain as fast as their legs could carry them. Joe was startled and made after the pair. But at a groan from Bill Badger he paused. "Are you badly hurt?" he asked. "He gave me a stiff crack on the arm," growled the young westerner. Joe ran for the corner and caught up the pistol.
Nothing met his view but a garden spade which Peleg Snuggers had been using, and catching this up he ran for Tom as if to lay him low forever. "Caven, none of that! Fight fair!" "He shan't call me a thief!" growled the Irish boy. "I'll show him!" And he aimed a tremendous blow for Tom's head. Had the spade fallen as intended Tom's cranium might have been split in twain.
"You only say that because he called you down last week," put in Frank. He referred to a tilt between the new pupil and the colored man. Jim Caven had tried to be "smart" and had gotten the worst of the encounter. "Yes, I think he's as honest as you are!" burst out Tom, before he had stopped to think twice.
"Young gentlemen, I will introduce to you several who will join your ranks for this season," said the head assistant. Then he began to name the half dozen. Among others they included a round-faced German youth named Hans Mueller, and a tall, lank, red-haired boy, of Irish descent who rejoiced in the name of Jim Caven. "I'll wager the Dutch boy is full of fun," whispered Sam to Tom.
"You seem mighty anxious to bring this Caven to justice," smiled the farmer. "We are, for two reasons," said Tom. "The first is, because he isn't the nice sort to have around, and the second is, because one of the men working at the school, a colored waiter, whom we all liked, has been suspected of this crime and had to run away to avoid arrest." "I see. Well " The farmer mused for a moment.
But if you can prove to me that you and Caven came by those shares honestly I won't prosecute you, Malone." "I will prove it!" was the quick answer, and that very afternoon Pat Malone proved beyond a doubt that the shares had belonged to himself and Gaff Caven when they sold them to Maurice Vane. "That is all I want of you," said Maurice Vane. "I shan't appear against you, Malone."
"Jim Caven!" repeated Dick slowly, "What makes you believe that he is guilty?" "From what Mr. Dickerson here says," answered Tom, and repeated what the farmer had told him. "Gracious, that does look black for Caven!" said Dick, when he had finished. He turned to the farmer. "Would you recognize that boy again if you saw him?" "I allow as how I would.
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