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Before the Irish lad could recover his balance, Tom struck him in the nose, and over rolled his opponent. A shout went up. "Good for Tom Rover! That was a telling blow! I Keep it up!" "I'll fix you!" gasped Jim Caven, as soon as he could speak. "I'll fix you!" and staggering to his feet, he glanced around for some weapon.
The farmer gave a searching glance, which lasted until the approaching cadets were beside the wagon. Then he pointed his hand at Jim Caven. "Thet's the boy I seed over to Auburn, a-pawning thet watch an' them studs," he announced. "He's got his sodger uniform on, but I know him jest the same." Jim Caven looked at the farmer in astonishment.
"A fine mess!" "What are you talking about, Pat?" asked Caven. "Do you remember the mining stocks we sold to Maurice Vane?" "Certainly I do." "Well, he has got 'em yet." "All right, he can keep them. We have his money too," and Gaff Caven chuckled. "I'd rather have the shares." "Eh?" "I said I'd rather have the shares, Gaff. We put our foot into it when we sold 'em."
I came here, and as you know, Malone, or Ball, or whatever his name is, pretended to be very sick and in need of money. He set his price, and I came back with the cash and took the mining stock. I was to meet Caven, alias Anderson, the next day and go to the broker with him, but Caven did not appear. Then I grew suspicious and went to see the broker alone.
"Tramps?" "They didn't look like tramps. But they hadn't any right to ride on the freight." "Where are they?" "Over in the shanty yonder." With a queer sensation in his heart Joe walked to the little building, accompanied by Bill Badger. A curious crowd was around and they had to force their way to the front. One look was enough. Gaff Caven and Pat Malone lay there, cold in death.
He threatened to have somebody sued for false imprisonment but the police laughed at him. "Better not try it on, Malone," said one officer. "Remember, your picture is in our Rogues' Gallery," and then the rascal was glad enough to sneak away. The next day he took a train to Baltimore, where, after an hour's hunt, he found Gaff Caven. "We made a fine mess of things," he said, bitterly.
"They won't find us here," said Malone, after ten minutes had passed. "Don't make a noise," whispered Caven. After that they remained silent. From a great distance came a shouting, and the whistling of locomotives. The trees were being hauled from the car tracks. A little later they heard more whistling and then the two trains passed on their way. "The trains have gone," whispered Malone.
Many were astonished to learn that he was thought guilty, but a few declared that "a coon wasn't to be trusted anyway." "Niggers are all thieves," said Jim Caven, "never yet saw an honest one." "I don't believe you!" burst out Tom. "Pop's a first-rate fellow, and the captain has got to have more proof against him before I'll believe him guilty." "Oh, he's a bad egg!" growled the Irish boy.
Then Joe took his handkerchief and stepped up behind Malone. The hands were lowered and crossed and our hero tied them firmly together at the wrists. "Now back up to that tree yonder," said our hero. "And don't you dare to move." "I'll do just as you say," whined Malone. "Only don't shoot me." He was a coward at heart. "Now, Caven, you come down!" shouted Joe.
But now both Dick and Frank caught the unreasonable youth and held him while Sam and several others took the spade away. "Stop it here comes Mr. Strong!" came the unexpected cry from some outsiders. "Yes, give it up, Tom," whispered Sam. "We're in hot water enough, on account of that feast." "I'll give it up if Caven is willing," muttered
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