"This young rascal threw them there!" cried the store-keeper, shaking Matt's arm savagely. "You imp! tell me where the other things are at once, or I'll skin you alive!"
"Look here, Mr. Marvelling; I want you to let go of me and be reasonable," returned Matt, as calmly as he could. "I am not a thief. If I was, would I tell the story I did, or send down your companion to find those things? My story about that object under the bridge is true, and, to my way of thinking, it was the thief you saw jump the fence and run in this direction. When I sprang down to bathe my face and hands he got scared and ran out on the other side of the bridge, and in his hurry he must have dropped the things which have been found."
"Stuff and nonsense!"
"His story may be true," put in Jackson mildly.
"My advice is to follow up the brook and see if you cannot track the thief," went on the young auctioneer. "And do not lose any time in doing it."
"And what will become of you?" sneered the store-keeper.
"I will go with you, if you wish."
"That's a good idea," said the constable. "Come, let us start without delay. If we can't find anybody we can take the boy to the lock-up, anyway."
