Chapter IX. Under Suspicion - Page 2

Brimfield trains inquired: "Who are those boys, Can?"

"Don't know. They walked in here about six-thirty and wanted some breakfast. Said they was nigh starved. Looked it, too. And mighty tired. Nice-appearing young fellows. Off on a lark, maybe, trampin' around country."

"Thought they were strangers here. Got any more coffee, Can?"

* * * * *

"What do you think?" asked Amy eagerly as they walked up the street.

"I don't know," replied Clint doubtfully. "What would they be doing there?"

"Burying the stuff they stole, of course! That's what they did, all right. You see if it isn't. Maybe they'll offer a reward and all we'll have to do is go there and dig the things up and--"

"I guess we'd better find the police station and tell what we know, reward or no reward," answered Clint. "And another thing we'd better do is telephone to school and tell them we aren't dead. We're going to catch the mischief, anyway, I reckon, but we might as well save ourselves all we can. Wonder where there's a telephone."

"There's a blue sign over there in the next block," said Amy. "Who--who's going to do the talking?"

"Well, you're pretty fond of it," suggested Clint.

"Not today! Not on Sundays, Clint! I never could talk on Sundays! You'd better do it. And get Josh himself, if you can. He'll like it better than if he hears it from an H.M. Tell him we got lost and--"

But Amy's further instructions were interrupted. A blue-coated policeman who had been observing their approach with keen interest hailed them from the curb at the corner.

"Hello, boys!" he said. "Where'd you come from?"

"We came from Thacher," replied Clint. "That is, we came from there this morning, or, rather, last night. We're from Brimfield, really."

"Are, eh? Thought you said Thacher. What you doing here?"

"Waiting for a train. We lost our way last night and only got here this morning."

"Why didn't you take the seven-o'clock then?"

"We didn't know about it until it was too late. We were getting some breakfast at a restaurant down the street there. We're going to take the nine-forty-six."

"The nine-forty-six is an express to New York, son. What's your name? And what's his?"

"My name's Thayer and his is Byrd. We go to Brimfield Academy."

"Do, eh? Aren't you a long way from home?"

"Yes. You see, we went over to Thacher to the football game and lost the trolley. And then a fellow offered to give us a ride in an automobile as far as this place and we got in and a wheel came off and we had to walk the rest of the way. But we got lost in the woods