But it was all to no avail. They opened the satchel and noted its contents. Hervey’s sense of indignity now quite obliterated every other feeling. His struggles subsided into a wrathful sullenness; he could not, or he would not, explain. He knew only that he was being held and that fact alone aroused the demon in him. Of course, if Walton could not manage him, and the Scouts could not win and hold him, it was hardly to be expected that these low-bred detectives could get closer to him than to hold him by the collar. A dog would have understood him better. He was not the kind of boy to grab by the collar. These two detectives, apprised of the “robbery,” had taken their stand at the station to note if any suspicious looking strangers were leaving town on the first train. The boy had almost escaped, because of his youth. And _escape_ was the one thought in his mind now. Twice he might have explained; first to his good stepfather, and again to these minions of the law. But they had the grabbing instinct and (oh, the pity of it) had diverted his thoughts from honest restitution to a maniac desire to beat them and baffle them, to steal indeed his liberty if nothing else, and let the satchel with its fortune go hang! He _would_ steal; yes, he would forget all else now in this crazy mixup! He would steal what was the very breath of life to him--_his freedom_. He forgot the whole sorry business in this dominant thought--Horton Manners, the satchel, everything. They had grabbed him by the collar and he could feel the tightness in his neck. As long as the squirrel has teeth to bite, _he will bite_. You cannot tame a squirrel. The fact that he is caught stealing in your tree is quite a secondary matter. Hervey Willetts never thought of stealing anything in his life--but just the one thing. Freedom! So he did a stunt. With both hands he tore open his shirt in front, and as he felt the loosening grip in back he sprang forward only to feel a vice-like hand catch hold of his arm. And that hand he bit with all his vicious might and main. Like lightning he dodged both men and was off like a deer while the circle of onlookers stood aghast. Around the end of the freight platform he sped and those who hurried there beheld no sign of him--only a milk-can lying on its side which he had probably knocked over. Off bounded one of the detectives; the other lingered, sucking the cut in his hand. He didn’t know much about wild life, poor man. This was a kind of stealing he had never seen before--the only kind that interested Hervey Willetts. The only _thing_ that interested him--freedom. As long as the squirrel has teeth to bite, he will bite. You cannot tame a squirrel. CHAPTER XXVI OUT OF THE FRYING PAN