“Exactly, sulphur matches,” agreed Chub. “Well, look at these.” He drew five burnt matches from his pocket and held them out.
“Yes, I see,” said Roy. “Look like the same kind, don’t they? You think, then, that the fellow that Harry saw at her window is the same fellow that robbed the store?”
“I think he was one of them,” answered Chub, decidedly. “Besides, he tried to steal canned fruit from us, and they took about two dozen cans of it last night.”
“That’s so. Who do you think did it?”
“I don’t know, but—I’ve been wondering—I say, how far do you think it is to where those Gipsies are?”
“About two miles, I should say. Now, that’s it, Chub! I’ll wager they did it!”
“Well, that’s what I think,” said Chub. “Now, look here. After dinner you and Dick had better go back to the store with Harry and be there when Mrs. Peel comes. I’ll give you a check to replace the stolen money. She won’t lose that, anyway.”
“Oh, we’ll all contribute to that,” said Roy.
