“Maybe!” The boy regarded her defiantly.
“Then you just tell Mr. Hatfield everything you know!”
“Wild horses can’t drag it from me! I’m no snitcher. I don’t help anyone who made it hard for me!”
“You little ninny!” Mrs. Jones exclaimed, losing patience. “I declare, I wonder if you have an ounce of sense. Now march into the house.”
“Yes’m,” Jack muttered.
“Everyone come in,” Mrs. Jones invited. “We’ll thrash this out right here and now. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s nonsense!”
The Cubs trooped into the warm kitchen, fairly overflowing the tiny room. Mr. Hatfield, Babe, Chips and Fred found chairs. Dan perched himself on the corner of the wood box by the stove. The others stood.
“Jack, I’d try to switch a little sense into you, but I know now it doesn’t do a mite of good,” Mrs. Jones sighed. “Now what’s wrong with you anyhow?”
“Nothin’.”
“Then why don’t you speak up and tell Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs what they want to know?”
“They turned me in!”
“I reckon it was mighty inconsiderate of ’em to give you another chance,” the widow said, her brittle voice edged with sarcasm. “You’ve had a hard lot here. I’ve kept you chopping wood every day and helping with the housework. At night you’ve had to do your lessons.”
“The work wasn’t so hard,” Jack muttered.
“You’ve been chained to the house—never could go away—”
“Aw, quit rubbin’ it in,” Jack pleaded. “I’ve liked it here. I’m willing to stay.”
The widow regarded him steadily.
“You may be willing,” she said, “but I don’t want you any more.”
Jack drew in his breath and for a moment could not reply.
“You—you’re sending me back?” he finally stammered.
“Just as fast as I can send for Mr. Wentworth. I did the best I could for you, Jack. I needed a boy I could depend on that would help me with the work, and act like my own son. Well, you let me down. So I’ll go on living here alone.”
The words cut deep into Jack. “I’ll do better,” he promised. “Please don’t send me back to the Institute. I’ll cut all the wood you want me to—honest I will. I won’t take things out of the ice box again or run off so often. Only just once in a long while, when I get to feeling tight and mean inside. And I’ll tell you ahead that I’m going—I promise!”
“You’re promising a heap, Jack,” the widow returned dryly. “Only trouble is, you’ve made a lot of ’em before you never kept.”
“I never made any to you.”
“Well, that’s a fact. You have kept your word such as you’ve given.”
“Then let me have another chance. Just one more!”
“Not unless you tell the truth about that black dress of mine.”
“I never took it!” Jack said desperately. “Believe me, I never did!”
“But you know how it came to be in the hollow log?”
“Not for sure,” Jack hedged.
“You could make a pretty shrewd guess.”
“Maybe.”
“Then suppose you come clean and tell the Cubs everything you know.”
“Help ’em after they turned me in?”
“Did they really do you such a bad turn seeing to it that you were sent out here to my place?”
“No’m,” Jack murmured. “I’m all mixed up. I don’t know what to do—”
“I want you to stay with me always, Jack. You’re a fine boy.”
“You mean that? You ain’t just handing me a line so’s I’ll do what you want?”
“I really mean it, Jack. You should know by this time that when I give my word I keep it.”
Jack debated with himself only a moment longer. Then he arrived at his decision.
“I want to stay here,” he said earnestly. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to—and I ain’t crossin’ my fingers when I say it, either! You can switch me whenever you want to and I won’t try to take the switch away from you.”
“Now that’s right considerate of you, Jack,” Mrs. Jones smiled. “We’ll get along fine from now on. And we won’t need that switch again.”
“I’ll fill the woodbox,” Jack offered eagerly. “You’re most out of kindling.”
Mrs. Jones hauled him up short. “That job can wait, Jack. You got something else more important to do.”
“Tell us everything you know about the tin box,” Mr. Hatfield urged. “You’ll be doing the Cubs a real service, Jack. You see, not only myself but the entire organization has been under a cloud since the money disappeared.”
“I ain’t sure what became of it, but I may know,” Jack admitted.
“Then suppose you tell us,” the Cub leader urged.
“I’ll show you instead,” Jack offered. “Follow me to the woods, and you may see something kinda interesting!”
Skirting the marsh, Jack led the Cubs deep into the shadowy woods. Apparently he had gone that way often, for he seldom hesitated in choosing the trail.
“Where do you think he’s taking us?” Dan speculated, bringing up the rear with Brad.
“It has me guessing, Dan. He seems to know where’s he’s going though. I have a hunch he may show us something that will have an important bearing.”
After a brisk five-minute hike through the woods, Jack abruptly halted.
“If you want to see anything, you got to be quiet from here on,” he warned.
All conversation ceased. Still led by Jack, the Cubs moved on at a slower pace. Carefully they trod, taking care not to step on sticks or dry leaves.
Presently Jack again halted. This time he did not speak.
However, the Cubs, gathering close about, saw that they had neared their destination.
Directly ahead, in a tiny clearing close to the stream, stood a crude shack. Side walls were badly built from odd-shaped lumber which the Cubs guessed had been taken from near-by construction jobs.
The flat roof was made of tar paper. Some of it had torn loose and flapped in the light breeze.
“You didn’t build the shack?” Mr. Hatfield whispered to Jack. He had noted a tiny curl of smoke rising lazily from a tin pipe cut through the roof.
Jack shook his head. Motioning for the Cubs to follow, he moved in a little closer.
“Who lives there?” Brad whispered, impatient for information.
“Wait,” Jack said. “We’ll get in close, and maybe you can see for yourselves.”
“If we all move in, we’ll likely be seen,” Mr. Hatfield insisted.
It was decided that Jack, Mr. Hatfield, Brad and Dan should go on ahead, leaving the others in the shelter of the trees.
Moving softly over the uneven ground, the trio crept close to the shack. Keeping close to the wall, they reached a broken pane of glass which served as the only window.
Jack pressed his face against it and nodded in satisfaction.
“He’s in there! Have a look!”
Jack moved back to allow Dan to take his place.
The boy peered into the dark interior of the shack. At first he caught only an impression of an empty room with an old box which served as a table.
Then gradually he made out a balsam-bough bed on the floor, covered with an army blanket. Sprawled on the bed, fully clothed was a man with a stubbly beard.
“It’s that same fellow who looked in the church window!” Dan murmured, startled to recognize him.
“Careful, Dan!” Mr. Hatfield warned, for in his excitement, the boy very nearly had spoken aloud. “Let me have a look.”
Dan moved aside so that both the Cub leader and Brad might peer at the stranger.
“It’s the same man all right,” Brad confirmed Dan’s identification. “He’s dead to the world!”
Mr. Hatfield had turned to Jack. “This is all very interesting,” he whispered. “But you promised to show us something that might explain about the missing money box.”
“I can’t show you while he’s in there. But he’s got it.”
“Not the money?”
“Sure.” Jack thoroughly enjoyed his knowledge.
“How do you know this, Jack? Did you see the box?”
“Right from this very window. I was wandering through the woods late one afternoon when I came onto this shack. I was curious, so I sneaked up and looked in.”
“And this same tramp was living in there?” Dan asked. “When was that?”
“Oh, I didn’t find the shack until a couple of days ago. I don’t know how long it’s been here.”
“Tell us about the money box,” Mr. Hatfield urged.
“Well, as I looked through the window, I saw that tramp take it out from under his bed. While I watched, he counted the money. I saw a lot of bills in neat stacks.”
“Jeepers!” Dan whispered. “It must be the money we found in the church!”
“That hunk of baloney saw us through the window, and probably found out that the box was taken to Mr. Hatfield’s house,” Brad reasoned. “But how did he get it from there?”
“Remember Mrs. Jones’ black dress!” Dan reminded him.
“Sure, I get it. He must have stolen it from her place and wore the garment when he slipped into the house.”
“That’s why the milkman reported seeing a woman leave the place,” Dan nodded, peering again through the window. “The dope still is sleeping hard.”
“After stealing the money, it’s odd he didn’t try to get away from here,” Mr. Hatfield thought aloud. “Well, let’s get back and report to the Cubs. It’s risky standing here in the open.”
After taking one more peek through the dirty pane of glass, the boys followed the Cub leader to the shelter of trees. There they were bombarded with a multitude of questions.
“Let’s march into that shack in a body and make that tramp give up the money!” Chips proposed boldly. “Then we’ll have him arrested!”
“Aren’t you putting the cart before the horse?” Mr. Hatfield suggested. “It’s far wiser to have him arrested first and let the police demand the money.”
“That’s so,” agreed Brad. “We aren’t arresting officers.”
“That tramp may sleep another hour or perhaps only five minutes,” Mr. Hatfield said uneasily. “Tell you what! I’ll take Red and head for the nearest telephone. The rest of you stay here in the woods. Watch the shack but keep out of sight. I’ll be back as soon as I can call police or a state trooper.”
“We won’t let him get away,” Dan promised.
“Brad’s in charge,” Mr. Hatfield said as he and Red started off through the woods. “Obey his orders.”
After the Cub leader had gone, Brad told the boys to spread out a little and to flatten themselves on the ground.
“Hey, I want to take a peek into that window!” Chips announced.
“Nothing doing!”
“You and Dan got a chance to look. I guess if you did, the rest of us can too!”
“Sure, let’s take turns,” proposed Midge.
Brad gave him a withering look. “Am I going to have trouble with you guys?” he demanded.
“Mr. Hatfield didn’t say we couldn’t,” Chips argued.
“Use your head. You know if we all start going back and forth to that window, sooner or later we’ll be seen. We have an important job to do.”
“That’s right,” Dan supported the older boy. “And Brad’s in charge. What he says goes.”
“That’s all right for you,” Chips argued. “You already had your look.”
Surprisingly, Jack Phillips now entered the discussion.
“Pipe down, you!” he flung at the astonished Chips. “You’re yapping like a baby. We do as Mr. Hatfield said—see!”
Chips and Midge both subsided.
Time passed very slowly. Brad began to think it was taking Mr. Hatfield and Red a long while to telephone police. The Cubs, he could see, were growing cold and restless. Babe in particular, who had not dressed warmly enough, huddled against the older boy.
“How much longer will it be?” he asked.
“I sure wish I knew,” Brad replied. “Listen, Babe. You’re shivering. Why don’t you hike to Mrs. Jones’ place and warm yourself?”
Babe shook his head. “Nothing doing,” he said stoutly. “I’m as tough as the other fellows any day.”
Another five minutes elapsed. Brad was shifting into a more comfortable position, when Dan gripped his arm.
“Look, Brad!” he whispered.
The door of the shack had opened. For a moment the tramp stood there in his wrinkled clothes, gazing directly toward the woods.
“Lie still, fellows!” Brad ordered. “I don’t think he sees us.”
“What’s he going to do next?” Dan speculated uneasily.
The tramp stretched himself, and wandering down to the stream, washed his face. After taking a drink, he re-entered the shack.
“I sure hope he stays there,” Chips whispered.
The wish was a futile one. A minute or two later, the tramp reappeared, carrying a few cooking utensils.
Turning his back to the Cubs, he followed the curve of the creek and vanished from sight.
“Is he leaving for good?” whispered Dan.
“I don’t think so,” Jack Phillips answered. “I’ve seen him cook his food in a rock shelter about a hundred yards down-stream. He doesn’t dare have a fire inside the shack, or he’d likely burn it down.”
“All the same it’s our job to keep him in sight until the police get here,” Brad said. “Jack, suppose you and Fred follow and find out where he goes. Report back as soon as you can.”
“Sure!” agreed Jack, liking the assignment. “We won’t let him get away.”
“If he should lead you a chase, mark the trail,” the Den Chief advised. “Fred knows how to do it so the Cubs can follow.”
Fred and Jack hastened off in pursuit of the tramp. However, it seemed they scarcely had disappeared until they returned again, breathless from hurrying.
“Anything wrong?” Brad demanded.
“Not a thing,” Jack reassured him. “It’s just as I thought. The tramp is cooking his meal. He’ll be at it a half hour at least.”
“All the same, we ought to keep him in sight,” Brad decided. “You two hustle back and watch. If he starts this way, give some sort of signal.”
“What’ll it be?” Fred asked. “I know! I’ll whistle like a whippoorwill.”
“Are there any of ’em in the woods at this time of year?”
“Oh, the tramp won’t notice,” Fred said. “I could give my siren whistle.”
“No, the whippoorwill signal will be better,” Brad decided quickly. “That siren of yours would send him hot-footing in the opposite direction. But don’t use any signal unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
No sooner had the two gone off, than Chips again urged that the Cubs investigate the shack.
“Jack said the tramp will be tied up for a half hour,” he argued. “This is our chance! We can get in there and find the money!”
“Sure, Mr. Hatfield would want us to do it!” Midge backed him up.
“Well, I don’t know—it’s sort of risky.”
“Oh, you’re too conservative,” Chips said hotly. “I’m not afraid!”
“No one is afraid,” Brad retorted. “It’s just a matter of common sense. If the tramp should catch us here before the police arrive—”
“Heck! We’re seven to his one! What do we need? An army?”
The taunt annoyed Brad. “I’m just trying to do what Mr. Hatfield would want us to,” he retorted. “You’re so hot-headed.”
“Then go in there yourself and search the shack!” Chips challenged. “Or are you afraid?”
“No, I’m not, and you know it! I just have sense enough to figure that the tramp could come back here any minute.”
“Fred and Jack are watching, aren’t they? If the fellow leaves the creek, they’ll whistle. Go on! The important thing is to get that box of money!”
Brad gazed thoughtfully toward the creek. From a short distance away, he could see a few wisps of smoke arising.
“All right, we’ll take a chance!” he decided reluctantly.
Chips started for the shack, only to have Brad haul him back.
“Not you!” he said. “Dan and I will search the shack. You and Midge and Babe stay here and keep watch. If you hear a whistle, or see anyone coming, give us a warning.”
“Some guys have all the fun!” Chips complained.
“Fun!” Brad snorted. “We’re taking the risk. Don’t forget, that tramp may be armed, either with a revolver or a knife. If he should catch us in the shack, he might give us a tough time of it.”
“If you’re scared, let me go.”
“Oh, you make me tired!” Brad snapped in disgust. “Stay here and watch. Come on, Dan.”
The two darted across the clearing and opened the door of the shack.
A few garments hung from pegs on the wall. An orange crate had been fashioned into a table. Otherwise, except for the balsam bed on the floor, the room was bare.
Losing no time, Dan and Brad began to tear the bed apart.
“It’s not here,” Dan said in disappointment. “Wait”—his hand struck a metal object buried deep amid the carefully laid brush.
Triumphantly, he brought out the tin box.
“Good work, Dan!” Brad praised. “Is the money still there?”
Dan raised the lid. The box appeared filled with bills and coins.
“Not much can be missing at any rate,” he said in satisfaction. “Finding this box will clear Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs!”
“Now our only problem will be finding out who’s entitled to the money—”
Both boys froze into alert attention. Faintly they had heard a whistle from down-creek.
“Gosh!” Brad exclaimed. “We’re getting out of here!”
At that same moment, someone tapped on the glass pane at the rear of the shack.
Whirling around, Brad and Dan saw Chips’ contorted face pressed against the window. He motioned frantically.
Seizing the tin box, Brad and Dan started for the door.
Before they could reach it, heavy footsteps were heard outside.
Then the door creaked back, and the tramp stood there blocking the exit!
“Well!” said the tramp unpleasantly. “Visitors, I see!”
Dan gripped the tin box, standing close beside Brad.
The shack had but one exit, the door which was blocked by the tramp. Dan and Brad knew they were in a spot. Their best bet was to stall for time, hoping that the other Cubs would circle in from the rear and come to their aid.
“Hand over that box!” the tramp ordered.
“No!” Dan defied him.
“You’ll give it up or I’ll break every bone in your body!”
“You stole the money from the church—or rather from Mr. Hatfield’s place!” Dan accused. “It’s not your box!”
“Hand it over!” the tramp ordered again, moving a step closer. He reached his hand into his pocket as if for a weapon.
“Better do it, Dan,” Brad advised quietly.
Even then the boy was reluctant to relinquish the box.
Appraising his chances, he gazed beyond the tramp. Through the open door he could see Chips and Midge moving in closer.
A daring plan flashed into his mind. But should he risk trying it? The chances were about even that he would fail.
Chips was a star baseball player and his reactions were fast. But would they be speedy enough?
“Listen, you!” the tramp ordered again. “Give me that box!”
Dan no longer dared stall. Chips and Midge were quite close to the door now, though not near enough to attack the tramp from the rear. Behind the two, almost in line were Fred and Jack who had hastened up from the direction of the creek.
For Dan’s purpose, the line-up was very nearly perfect. The moment had come. He had to take the chance and hope that the other Cubs didn’t muff it.
“Sure, I’ll give you the box,” he said. “CATCH!”
Even before Dan shouted the word, he had tossed the box in a high arch over the tramp’s head.
Belatedly the man made a leap for it, but he clutched only air.
Behind him, the box was falling almost directly into Chips’ hands.
“Get it!” shouted Dan.
Chips already was closing his hands upon the box. He fumbled, recovered and held fast.
“Pass it!” shouted Dan. “PASS!”
The command momentarily confused Chips. But as the angry tramp started toward him, he suddenly realized what Dan meant.
Pivoting, he shoved the box into Midge’s hands.
By now, all the Cubs had caught onto the trick.
Midge ran a few steps and tossed the box to Fred.
“Come back here, you!” shouted the tramp furiously.
Forgetting Dan and Brad, he started in pursuit of Fred and the box.
The two boys ran out of the shack.
“Make for Mrs. Jones’ place!” Dan shouted.
Fred was a fast runner and already had a long start on the tramp.
But to the alarm of the Cubs, the man did not give up the chase. Determined to recover the box, he kept after him.
Brad rounded up Jack and the other Cubs, heading for the road, by a shorter route. Anxiously, they looked about for Mr. Hatfield and police officers, but the highway was entirely deserted.
“Something’s delayed them,” Brad said anxiously, scribbling a note which he speared on a barb of the wire fence. “I hope he finds this. I’ve told him to look for us at Mrs. Jones’.”
The Cubs had reached the road a minute or two ahead of Fred. Soon they saw him rolling under a fence thirty yards farther down the highway.
“Good boy!” Dan exclaimed. “He still has the box!”
The Cubs raced to join Fred. Brad relieved him of the money container.
“We can’t stop to pick any daisies!” Fred panted. “That ape is right on my heels!”
“Let’s have it out with him!” Chips exclaimed. “We’re seven to one—lots o’ fun!”
“We’re heading for Mrs. Jones’ place!” Brad ordered firmly. “I think the fellow has a knife. We’re taking no chances on being carved.”
The Cubs loped off, leaving the tramp farther and farther behind.
“Guess he’s given up the chase now,” Midge said, as they drew near the Jones’ home. “No, by George! He’s still following!”
“Say, what if Mrs. Jones isn’t at home?” Babe quavered. “What’ll we do then?”
“Don’t dig up trouble,” Dan advised him. “Wait until it nudges you in the shoulder.”
He pounded on the door with his fist. The Cubs waited uneasily. The tramp had turned into the lane and was running faster now.
“Wait, boys!” he shouted. “I got something to tell you!”
“He probably wants to give us a stick of candy!” Dan muttered. “Oh, why doesn’t Mrs. Jones open the door—”
Just then, the widow did answer the knock.
“Let us in and we’ll explain later,” Dan said breathlessly. “That tramp is after us!”
Without asking questions, Mrs. Jones hustled the Cubs into the house.
“Better lock the door,” Brad advised, setting the money box on the kitchen table. “That bird may try to break in.”
“Let him!” said Mrs. Jones. Nevertheless, she locked the kitchen door as the boy had advised.
The Cubs barely had time to explain where they had obtained the money, than the man was pounding to be let in.
“Don’t do it,” Brad advised the widow. “He’s a tough customer. Better let the police handle him.”
Chips and Midge had gone to the window to look out.
“Come back, boys,” Mrs. Jones ordered. “If that tramp is a criminal, he might take a shot through the glass.”
Alarmed, the two boys moved back out of range.
Outside, a door slammed as if in the wind. Mrs. Jones, hearing the sound, stiffened.
Then, unmindful of her own warning to the Cubs, she ran to the window.
“Why, that sneak!” she exclaimed. “He’s opened the double doors leading down into the basement!”
“Then he’ll be up here in another minute!” Babe quavered. “He’ll get us!”
“Oh, no, he won’t,” said Mrs. Jones confidently.
Moving across the kitchen, she locked the inside door which led into the basement. As a double precaution, she then placed the heavy oak table in front of the door.
“That should hold him,” she announced. “I have another little idea too!”
The Cubs could not guess what the widow was up to as she darted out of the house, not even bothering to put on a wrap.
In a moment though, they understood. Mrs. Jones slammed shut the double doors entering into the cellar, and bolted them.
As Dan and Brad ran out to help, she told them to bring several pieces of heavy machinery from the shed. These the boys trundled out and placed on top of the double doors.
“That should hold him!” Mrs. Jones declared, well satisfied with her work.
From inside the house, they could hear the tramp pounding on the door.
“He may break it down!” Dan said uneasily.
“He could,” the widow admitted. “Dan, run down the road and see if you can find out what’s keeping Mr. Hatfield and the state troopers. Meanwhile, the rest of us will hold the fort. Or to be strictly accurate—the kitchen!”
Knowing that Mrs. Jones and the Cubs might not be able to hold the tramp a prisoner very long in the barricaded basement, Dan ran as fast as he could down the road.
He had no idea which way Mr. Hatfield had gone. However, it seemed to him that the house most likely to have a telephone, was a large white one a quarter of a mile farther on toward town.
Dan was midway there when he saw a state trooper’s car approaching. His heart leaped. Help, he thought, was at hand.
Even before the boy signaled, the car came to a grinding halt a short distance away. Two state troopers were in the front seat, with Mr. Hatfield sitting between them.
“Get in, Dan,” the Cub leader said, as the door swung open. “What happened at the shack?”
Dan tersely told him.
“On to Mrs. Jones’ place,” one of the state troopers declared, shifting gears. “We’ll get the fellow!”
As the car swung into the farmyard a few minutes later, Mrs. Jones met the group at the door.
“I’m glad you got here!” she said in relief. “That tramp has been making a frightful fuss in the cellar. We were afraid he would break down the door.”
The troopers decided to accost the man from the outside exit, rather than subjecting the Cubs to possible gunfire.
With weapons drawn, the two officers flung wide the double cellar doors.
“Come out or we’ll shoot!” the order was given.
The Cubs thought the tramp might defy the officers. However, in a moment he came out of his dark hole, hands raised.
Officer Peterson snapped a pair of handcuffs over the man’s wrists and marched him into the house.
“Your name?” he demanded.
“Carl Blakemore.” The tramp blinked owlishly, his gaze roving from one face to another.
“You’ve been living in a shack near here?”
“I’ve been sleeping there nights,” the man muttered.
“You’re under arrest for stealing money from the home of Sam Hatfield. Anything to say?”
“Not a thing,” the tramp muttered. Then he suddenly changed his mind. “Yes, I have too!” he announced. “I know you’ll take me to jail, so I may as well tell you the whole story. Not that you’ll believe me!”
“Go ahead,” the trooper encouraged.
“All right, I stole the money,” the tramp frankly admitted. “The first place I took it from was the Merrimac house.”
“Then he was telling the truth when he said he’d lost a strongbox!” Dan exclaimed. “The other claimants were false.”
“It was Merrimac’s money,” the tramp confirmed. “What’s more, except for twenty-five dollars I used to live on, every cent of it is still here in the box.”
“How did the box get in the coal bin of the church?” Mr. Hatfield questioned.
“I’m coming to that. But first I’d like to tell why I came to Webster City in the first place.”
“Tell the story in your own way,” Trooper Peterson instructed him. “You can put your hands down now.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s only fair to warn you that anything you say may be used against you in court.”
“I got nothing to hide,” the tramp said with a shrug. “I’ve had a tough life, knockin’ around the world. Sometimes I’ve had enough to eat—sometimes I haven’t. For awhile I worked on a lake freighter. Then I got a bad infection in my leg. When I came out of the hospital, I was broke and discouraged.
“I began to turn things over in my mind, wishing I could settle down and start a new life. Then I remembered I had an uncle here in Webster City that was well fixed. I’d never paid any attention to the old duffer, or he to me. I couldn’t even remember his name. But I thought I’d drift out this way and look him up. Figured he might stake me to a new start.”
“Who was your uncle?” Mr. Hatfield asked curiously.
“You’ll hear in a minute. Well, as I was saying, I came out here and tried to look him up. I didn’t have any luck. Finally I was down to my last dime.
“I was desperate. I tried to get help from charity, but was told they couldn’t help me because I was a non-county resident.”
“Never mind all these details,” State Trooper Peterson cut in impatiently. “You robbed the Merrimac home?”
“Yes, I heard talk in a pool room that the old man had a strongbox. I noticed by watching the house that he was careless about locking his doors. So I watched my chance and slipped in. I found the box without any trouble. But as I was leaving, I saw a photograph that gave me a terrific shock.”
“Mr. Merrimac’s picture?” questioned the trooper.
“No, it was a picture of my mother. In a flash, I knew that I was robbing my own uncle, because he was the only person in Webster City who would have such a photograph.”
“But you went through with the deed all the same?” Officer Peterson reminded him.
“I didn’t have time to think things to a conclusion,” the tramp said lamely. “As I was looking at the photograph, a woman came into the house to do some work. Seeing her, I got panicky and fled.”
“With the money.”
“Yes, I kept it. But right away, my conscience began to bother me. I’d never stolen anything before. The last thing I wanted to do was take money from my own relative.
“I made up my mind I’d return it and then try to get Merrimac to help me.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Everything worked against me. First I made the mistake of hiding the money box in the empty church. It was my bad luck that the Cub Scouts had a meeting there before I had a chance to get it back again.”
“You were the man we met on the street that night in the rain!” Dan identified him.
“Sure, I asked you what was going on. That was the first I knew the church had been reopened.”
“Then later you peeked through the church window!”
“I saw a light in the basement first,” the tramp explained. “That gave me a real scare. But I had a worse jolt when I saw you kids had found the money and were counting it.”
“You followed us in a car after we left the church?” Mr. Hatfield inquired.
“Where would I get a car?”
“Then how did you learn where the money box was taken?”
“I knew you’d either take it home or to the police station.”
“So you broke into my home later and took the box?”
“I had to get it back.”
“You dressed as a woman so you wouldn’t be recognized?” Mr. Hatfield resumed the questioning. “You wore a black silk dress with diamond-shaped jet buttons?”
“That’s right!”
“You mean you wore my dress!” Mrs. Jones exclaimed indignantly. “Why, then you stole it from the shed! You’ve been taking wood too!”
“Only a little.”
“All this time I wrongfully was blaming Jack,” Mrs. Jones said. “And the boy never once spoke up to set me right!”
“After using the dress, I suppose you hid it in the hollow log in the woods,” Mr. Hatfield commented.
“That’s right,” the tramp agreed. “For a while I slept in an unoccupied house near here. After the contractor drove me away, I had to throw up that shack in the woods. It was pretty cold at night.”
“What about the money?” Trooper Peterson reminded him.
“There’s not much more to tell. I made up my mind to return it to Merrimac like I said.”
“But you never did?”
“I tried. Once I got into the house, but before I could put the box where I’d found it, someone rang the doorbell. I had to get out fast!”
“You could have left the money,” the trooper pointed out.
“I guess so,” the tramp admitted. “I was sort of rattled. I just crawled out the back window and beat it as fast as I could.”
“After that, you didn’t make another attempt to return the money?”
“I didn’t know what to do. I used a little to buy food. Oh, I was weak all right—I admit it. But it’s the truth I never intended to steal from my own uncle. I know you won’t believe my story.”
“On the contrary, everything you have told us tallies with the facts as we know them,” Mr. Hatfield assured him.
“Well, that’s my story and it’s all there is to it,” the tramp said, making a despairing gesture with his hands. “You may as well take me off to jail now.”
The troopers escorted the man to the waiting car. As the man left the home, he paused in the doorway to direct a word to the Cubs.
“No hard feelings, boys,” he said. “You fellows made it plenty tough for me, but I’m not blaming anyone except myself. I led a useless life and I got what’s coming to me!”
After the car had driven away, Mr. Hatfield told the Cubs they must return to Webster City without further delay. So much time had elapsed that he was afraid lest their parents worry.
“Jack, we owe you a lot,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand. “Through your cooperation, my name will be completely cleared, and Mr. Merrimac will have his money again. Many thanks not only from me but from all the Cubs.”
“Sure, that’s okay,” the boy replied in deep embarrassment. He hesitated, and then with a darting glance at Mrs. Jones asked: “Are you going to send me back to the Institute?”
“Send you back?” Mrs. Jones demanded with a quick laugh which had real affection. “Why, Jack! What an idea! I need you here to help me.”