"We've got him!" yelled Bob.
"Help! Help!" shouted Ned.
"Murder! Thieves! Robbers! Fire! Police! Help!"
These were cries coming from the man who was struggling to get rid of
the crushing weight of three healthy, sturdy boys.
"He's trying to get away!" called Jerry: "Hold him, fellows!"
"Let me go! Help! Help! I haven't any money!" pleaded the man
underneath!" Fire! Police! Help!"
"What is it?" cried Mr. Seabury, opening a window just over where the
struggle was going on, and thrusting his head out. "What's the
matter?"
"We've caught a burglar!" cried Bob.
"A burglar? Hold him until I get my revolver! Ponto! Where are you?
There's a burglar below! Hurry up and help the boys! Where is that
black rascal? I'll bet he's gone to sleep again!"
"Comin'! I'se comin' Massa Seabury," answered Ponto's voice from the
far distance. "I were jest takin' a nap--"
"Do you take me for a burglar?" suddenly asked the wriggling man, as
he succeeded in getting his head from under Bob's stomach where it had
practically been out of sight. "Did you think I was trying to rob the
house?"
"Of course; aren't you--" began Jerry, when a light flashing from one
of the windows, as Ponto approached, shone full on the prostrate man's
face. Upon the startled view of the boys there burst the vision of the
peaceful, though sadly surprised, face of Professor Snodgrass.
"Pro-fes-sor Snodgrass!" exclaimed Ned weakly.
"Pro-fes-sor," stammered Bob, rolling over in his astonishment.
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