"Well, I'll
be jiggered! Here! Don't bolt like that!"
"Let go of me!" cried the boy, striking at the hand that clutched his
arm. "I won't let them catch me! Let me go!"
"Keep your shirt on, my son," said the clown coolly. "Nobody's going
to 'urt you 'ere. Just you remember that. I am not going to give you
up--leastwise, not just yet. So you murdered your grandfather, did
you? Well, I wouldn't 'ave took you to be that kind--"
"I didn't do it! I didn't do it!" There was piteous appeal in his wide
eyes. "I swear I didn't. They're trying to put it on me to save some
one else. Oh, please, don't keep me here. They--they are--they must be
here by this time, looking for me. Oh, if you knew how I've tried to
dodge them. They had bloodhounds last Saturday. Oh!" He covered his
face with his hands and shuddered as with a mighty chill.
Grinaldi eyed him speculatively.
"You say they're 'ere now? So close as that?" he demanded in a low
voice.
"I passed them on the mountain. I tried to make the railroad ahead of
them. There was a bridge down back there. There were two of them,
officers from the county seat.
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