"Have you got him? Have you got him?" inquired the elongated and
cadaverous specimen of humanity who burst into the hall and stared
at us.
"I seen him early this evening a'hangin' around these here premises
and I ups and chases him twicet, but the skunk outrun me," the
newcomer gurgled, as he excitedly swung a policeman's billy the
size of a fence rail.
"Then I seen the lights here and says I, 'they has him'! Perduce
the maleyfactor till I trot him to the lock-up!" and with this the
minion of the law rolled up his sleeves and prepared for action.
"I presume you are the chief of police?" inquired Uncle Peter, with
an affable smile.
"I'm all the police they is and my name is Harmony Diggs, and
they's no buggular livin' can get out'n my clutches oncet I gits
these boys on him," the visitor shouted, waving an antiquated pair
of handcuffs excitedly in the air.
Tacks watched him open-mouthed. That boy was having the time of
his life and it would have pleased me immeasurably to paddle him to
sleep with Harmony's night stick.
"I caught him!" Tacks cried in exultant tones when the village
copper looked his way; "he's down there."
"Down there, eh?" snorted the country Sherlock, getting on his
knees and peering into the depths, but just then Bunch handed him a
handful of hard mud which located temporarily over Harmony's left
eye and put his optic on the blink.
With the other eye, however, Mr. Diggs caught a glimpse of a step
ladder, which he immediately lowered through the trap, and drawing
a murderous looking revolver from his pocket, commanded Bunch to
come up or be shot.
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