And if somebody does?
Well, we can always refuse to give it up until ownership is proved, declared Neale.
All right. Lets advertise it at once. We neednt wait for Ruth to come back, said the energetic Agnes. How should such an advertisement be worded, Neale?
They proceeded to evolve a reading notice advertising the finding of the silver bracelet, which when published added not a little to the complications of the matter.
CHAPTER VIII THE MISFORTUNES OF A RUNAWAY
Sammys progress was slow because of the weight of the extension-bag. Yet as he trudged on steadily he put a number of miles behind him that afternoon.
Had his parents known in which direction to look for him they might easily have overtaken the runaway. Neale ONeil could have driven out this road in the Kenways car and brought Sammy back before supper time.
Mr. Pinkney, however, labored under the delusion that because Sammy was piratically inclined, he would head toward the sea. So he got in touch with people all along the railroad line to Pleasant Cove, suspecting that the boy might have purchased a ticket in that direction with a part of the contents of his burglarized bank.
The nearest thing to the sea that Sammy came to after passing the canal on the edge of Milton was a big pond which he sighted about mid-afternoon. Its dancing blue waters looked very cool and refreshing, and the young traveler thought of his bathing suit right away.
I can hide this bag and take a swim, he thought eagerly. I bet that pond is all right. Hullo! Theres some kids. I wonder if they would steal my things if I go in swimming?
He was not incautious. Being mischievously inclined himself, he suspected other boys of having similar propensities. The boys he had observed were playing down by the waters edge where an ice-house had once stood. But the building had been destroyed by fire, all but its roof. The eaves of this shingled roof, which was quite intact, now rested on the ground.
The boys were sliding from the ridge of the roof to the ground, and then climbing up again to repeat the performance. It looked to be a lot of fun.
After Sammy had hidden his extension-bag in a clump of bushes, he approached the slide. One boy, who was the largest and oldest of the group, called to Sammy:
Come on, kid. Try it. The slides free.
It looked to be real sport, and Sammy could not resist the invitation given so frankly. He saw that the bigger boy sat on a piece of board when he slid down the shingles; but the others slid on the seat of their trousers and so did Sammy.
It proved to be an hilarious occasion. One might have heard those boys shouting and laughing a mile away.
A
series of races were held, and Sammy Pinkney managed to win his share of them. This so excited him that he failed for all of the time to notice what fatal effect the friction was having upon his trousers.
He was suddenly reminded, however, by a startling happening. All the shingles on that roof were not worn smooth. Some were splintery. Sammy emitted a sharp cry as he reached the ground after a particularly swift descent of the roof, and rising, he clapped his hand to that part of his anatomy upon which he had been tobogganing, with a most rueful expression on his countenance.
Oh, my! Oh, my! cried Sammy. Ive got two big holes worn right through my pants! My good pants, too. My maw will give me fits, so she will. Ill never dare go home now.
The big boy who had saved his own trousers from disaster by using the piece of board to slide on, shouted with laughter. But another of the party said to Sammy:
Dont tell your mother. I arent going to tell my mother, you bet. By and by shell find the holes and think they just wore through naturally.
Well, said Sammy, with a sigh, I guess Ive slid down enough for to-day, anyway. Good-bye, you fellers, Ill see you later.
He did not feel at all as cheerful as he spoke. He was really smitten with remorse, for this was almost a new suit he had on. He wished heartily that he had put on that cowboy suit even his bathing suit before joining that coasting party.
That big feller, grumbled Sammy, is a foxy one, he is! He didnt wear through his pants, you bet. But me
Sammy was very much lowered in his own estimation over this mishap. He was by no means so smart as he had believed himself to be. He felt gingerly from time to time of the holes in his trousers. They were of such a nature that they could scarcely be hidden.
Crickey! he muttered, she sure will give me fits.
The boys he had been playing with disappeared. Sammy secured his bag and suddenly found it very, very heavy. Evening was approaching. The sun was so low now that its almost level rays shone into his eyes as he plodded along the road.
A farmer going to Milton market in an auto-truck, its load covered with a brown tarpaulin, passed Sammy. If it had not been for the holes in his trousers, and what his mother would do and say about it, the boy surely would have asked the farmer for a ride back home!
His hesitancy cost him the ride. And he met nobody else on this road he was traveling. He struggled on, his courage beginning to ebb. He had eaten the last crumbs of his lunch. After the pond was out of sight behind him the runaway saw no dwellings at all. The road had entered a wood, and that wood grew thicker and darker as he advanced.