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"I bet the Barnacle haunts Purt in his dreams," exclaimed Bobby. "Oh! say not so!" begged Billy Long. "If Purt has the nightmare and draws that 'family friend, the faithful revolver, on the ghost of the dog Good-night! Like enough he'll blow us all out of the tent." "I bet that Barnacle dogs his 'feetsteps' for the rest of Purt's mortal existence," declared Chet, prophetically.
But to their surprise Billy took up cudgels for the dandy as soon as he was told that the police suspected him of the offense. "What's the matter with you, Short?" demanded the big fellow. "You've been sure Purt was guilty all the time." "I don't care!" declared Billy. "He's one of us fellows, isn't he?" "Admitted he goes to Central High," Chet said. "But he isn't one of our gang," Lance added.
The news Chet had divulged was so exciting that the girls quite forgot for the time being the wreck that Hester Grimes seemed to have made of the forthcoming performance of "The Rose Garden." Their chattering tongues mentioned Hester more than once, however, as they discussed Chet's news. Whether Purt Sweet's car had run down the man from Alaska or not, what did Hester know about it?
Just how badly Billy Long was injured they could not guess. Mrs. Sweet shrank back into the corner of the tonneau seat and begged Laura to get in with the injured boy. "I can't! I can't touch him!" wailed the woman. "It's awful! Suppose he should be dead?" "He's not dead," declared Purt. "We won't let him die the poor kid! Here, mother, you hold his head and we'll lay him down on the seat.
Indeed, they waited to reach a certain pleasant grove which some of them knew about, on the south shore of the river, and several miles above the spot where Purt Sweet had taken his involuntary ducking. As the motorboats put ashore and the boys tied them to stubs in the high bank, they all began joking Purt about his plunge into the river.
Why, the way you went on over this stray pup, purt' nigh put you in the position of a man who didn't have no future to provide for, an' what in thunder good can this here pup ever do you, no matter what happens?" The pup was sittin' with his head between Bill's knees, an' Bill pulled his ear a time or two, an' then sez, "I reckon you're right; the whole earth ain't nothin' but a kindergarten.
Nothing could convince that dog that Purt was not his loving friend. But finally the dude's serious air and his efforts to reach the dog with a particularly well-shod foot, made an impression on the Barnacle. He squatted down before Purt and lifting up his head, uttered a howl that would have brought tears to the eyes of a graven image.
"The police accuse Purt of running down that man on Market Street the other Saturday night," said Lily warmly. "And Purt doesn't know anything more about it than a baby! Isn't it awful, girls?" The police examination of Purt Sweet was no light matter.
Let his head and shoulders lie right in your lap." "Oh, Laura! Do come!" cried the woman. "I can't, Mrs. Sweet!" returned Laura, sobbing. "I've got to stay and watch my pot boil. Do be quick, Purt!" She stepped out of the car. Purt slammed the tonneau door and leaped to the steering wheel. In a moment the self-starter sputtered, and then the car wheels began to roll. Mrs.
The' was purt' nigh forty of 'em who arrived to make merry over Thanksgivin'. Some of 'em came the day before, an' some of 'em two days before, an' some didn't arrive till the day itself, 'cause they had lived such a ways. The' was four women an' three unmarried ladies, countin' Miss Wiggins, the Spike Crick schoolmarm, who was a friendly little thing, though a shade too coltish for her years.
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