The Boy Scouts of Bob's Hill Part 6

"Well, who were they? Maybe," he went on, smiling at us, "you youngsters have come to give yourselves up."

"We didn't do it," put in Bill. "We wouldn't do such a thing, but we know who did. We don't know his name, but we know his track. We could have caught him yesterday if we'd wanted to. I wish we had now."

Then we told him about losing our dinners and following the robbers through Plunkett's woods, and about the queer looking track made by the bandaged foot.

"I'd know that footprint in China," said Bill, "and I found one just like it in the alley back of Green's store. The man with the lame foot made it. I 'most know he did."

"Say, William, you are a regular sleuth," said the marshal. "I have a notion to put you on the force."

But he didn't guy us any more after that. He put on his coat and walked downtown with us.

After he had looked at the footprint he covered it up again so that n.o.body would step on it.

"That's the one all right," Hank told him. "There were two of them. I heard them say something about robbing, when I was taking their pictures."

"Taking their pictures! They don't go around breaking into stores with an official photographer along, do they?"

"I don't know what they go around with," Hank said, "but I crept up close behind them and lay back of a bush where I could hear them talking, although I couldn't understand much of what they said. I thought it would be fun to take their pictures when they didn't know anything about it."

"They stood up when Hank threw a stone and looked right at the camera, only they didn't know it was there," Benny explained.

"Great Scott, boy! Do you mean to tell me that you took a photograph of the rascals?"

"I snapped them all right," Hank told him, "but I won't know whether I got a good picture or not until I develop the roll. I haven't done it yet."

"Well, you develop it right away, or, better still, get your camera and we'll have Marsh, the photographer, do it and make sure of things. He'll do it, if it is Sunday."

Hank hung back. "Can't you wait a while?" he asked. "I've got five shots left in the camera and don't want to waste them. They cost money."

The marshal looked disgusted. "Waste them! How much did they cost?"

"Twenty-five cents a roll; six in a roll."

The marshal pulled a quarter out of his pocket and handed it to him.

"You'll be a rich man some day," said he. "Now that roll of films belongs to me and that picture is going to be developed before you are an hour older. Can you do the job or shall I look up Marsh?"

"I can do it all right, if there is any picture to develop."

"Very well, go ahead with it and bring it down to my office just as soon as you can. And I'll tell you further, young fellow, if we catch those burglars through your help, you'll get part of the reward."

Hank looked at us a moment with his eyes s.h.i.+ning. Then he drew himself up.

"I'm a Scout," said he, "and Scouts are not looking for rewards. 'A Scout's duty is to be useful and to help others.' The book says so."

It made us all feel proud to have Hank say that. The marshal gave a surprised whistle.

"If that is the case," said he, laughing, "give me back my quarter."

But Hank wouldn't do that, although Skinny nudged him. I don't suppose you can learn to be a Scout all at once.

CHAPTER IV

"DANGER--COME"

IT was anxious work, standing around while Hank ran the film from his camera through some kind of machine which he had, to bring out the picture. After what seemed like a long time he took it out and looked through it toward the light.

"Hurrah!" he yelled. "We've got 'em."

We all crowded around to look, and sure enough at one end of the film we could see as plain as day two men standing up and looking toward us. And there was the brook, too, and the ravine, so real that we almost could hear the water pouring over the stones, which we think is the sweetest music in the whole world. Away back in the picture was the bush, behind which we boys were hiding when Hank took it. Only you couldn't see us at all, for we had been careful to keep out of sight.

It is wonderful, isn't it? I don't know how it is done and I don't believe that anybody else knows, but I know that it is so because I saw it with my own eyes.

Hank washed the film, and after it was dry put it in a frame with some paper which he had, and held it up to the gas jet. In a few seconds the picture showed up on the paper fine, just like our writing does when we do it in invisible ink and hold it up to a blaze.

We could tell who it was, all right. The big one had a scowl on his face, as if he had put it there when Hank tossed the stone and hadn't had time to smooth it out again.

"This picture is for the marshal," Hank told us. "Now I'll print another for the patrol. We'll let them soak and wash a while, and then dry them out. It'll take quite a long time, but we've got 'em all right."

When we finally went down to the marshal's it was evening. He was tickled when he saw the picture. It made Skinny feel real chesty and we all of us were proud.

"I tell you, Mr. Michael," said he, "the Band's the stuff. I mean the patrol is. They don't get away from us very often. I only wish we'd had a rope with us that time."

"You boys certainly did the trick," said the marshal, examining the picture. "I don't know those men myself, but I know where they will know them, and that is the next best thing. That is, if they are old crooks, as I suspect they are."

"Where's that?" asked Skinny.

"At police headquarters in New York. They have a rogues' gallery there that would surprise you. It contains the pictures and records of nearly every crook in the country. If these men are among them they'll pretty near know where to put their hands on them. I'll mail this down to-night. I've telegraphed already. Come around to-morrow and I'll tell you if I hear anything."

He met us with a broad grin the next afternoon and showed us a telegram.

This is what it said, for I put it down. Skinny thought it ought to be in the minutes of the meeting.

"Men well-known crooks. Are under arrest. Got the goods and most of the money."

"More than ten words are in that telegram," said Hank, counting them.

"There you go again," laughed the marshal. "I'll have to call the New York chief down for being so careless. Anyhow, your robbers will go to the penitentiary as sure as preaching."

"I don't know about it," Benny told us afterward, when we were talking it over. "I'm 'most sorry that we did it. I shall always be thinking that if it hadn't been for us those men wouldn't be locked up away from birds and gra.s.s and trees. Maybe they didn't have such good folks as we've got. You know that guy out in Illinois didn't have."

But after we saw Pa we felt better about it.

"I'm glad you feel that way," said he. "Still you did the right thing after you found out about the robbery. I wouldn't advise you, however, to go around taking photographs of burglars. You might get into trouble another time. It surely is an awful thing to be in state's prison, but being away from the trees and gra.s.s is not the worst thing about it. The worst thing is being so bad that you have to be locked up in order to make other people safe. It is a terrible thing to be a criminal, whether you are in prison or not."