"No, I don't, but I guess _you_ know," the woman replied sharply.
"What's your bet?"

"I'll tell you bye and bye, if I win," said Thompson, with a forced
laugh, as he and Tom walked away. "Now, boy, you heard what she
said," he continued, when they were out of earshot. "You witnessed
when she identified these rags. I reckon Bill Terrill's our man."

As quickly as possible they returned to the corner, where Thompson
dived into the saloon, only to reappear after a few minutes---alone.

"Friend William has skipped out," he declared grimly. "His pals
are in there, but our naughty little bird has flown! Never mind;
I'll get him. He's either skulking around town somewhere or he's
made tracks to the station, hoping to get the 2.10 to New York.
You said you were on your way to the station, didn't you? I'll go
there first with you."

Sure enough, when the train pulled in at the station, there was
Bill Terrill waiting to board it! He had not counted on such
quick work on the constable's part, and was not aware of the assistance
his own wife had unwittingly rendered, so he had merely tried to
get away before he was "spotted" among the crowd of idle men
and boys gathered on the station platform. When he felt Thompson's
heavy hand on his shoulder, he started, tried to dodge him and
escape, and, failing to do that, broke into a torrent of vile
oaths and half-drunken protests as he was escorted away to the
village jail.

Meanwhile, having told Thompson where he and Ralph and Art could