"Like enough you stole 'em," said Ham. "You're one of them runners for crooks, that's what you are. I know the kind; they have you to climb in the windows for 'em and all that. Now you keep still a minute if you know what's best for you." In a brief and threatened few moments of silence Peter told in a whisper how he had seen the signal and read it and stopped the car, and of the flight of the head thief, as he called him. Between these two excited youngsters Ham hardly knew what to believe. He certainly did not believe in talking lights appearing over graveyards. Nor did he credit Pee-wee's vehement and choppy account of bandits with seventy pistols. "Whar are these here dead ones?" he asked, rather confused. "Over yonder in the graveyard?" "How do I know where they are?" Pee-wee shouted. "Do you know what blackjacks are?" "Dots and dashes, you can do it with lights too," said Peter; "they tell the truth. If he says signals lie that shows he isn't a scout anyway, and anybody can see he isn't. I stopped them, I did it by myself." "That's nothing," Pee-wee shouted from the seat, "I nearly got suffocated, I'm more of a hero than you are. That man that ran away he--he--_duped_ me. This car--will you listen--this car--" "It's stolen; _I_ know," said Peter. "It _was_ stolen but it _isn't_ stolen," Pee-wee fairly screamed. "Can't a thing be stolen and then not stolen? It's being--being rescued--" "It's being stolen, the other thief ran away," Peter persisted. "He--he admits he was friends with a thief! He's a thief too, he is." "Maybe Jim disguised--kind of--as a thief," Pee-wee conceded. "He's trying to be disguised as a scout," poor Peter said. "I was a scout before you or anybody else was born," Pee-wee shouted. "He isn't," said Peter. "I am," said Pee-wee. Ham Sanders scratched his head, looking from one to the other, then looked appealingly at his familiar milk cans. Perhaps he expected to see them dancing around in this Bedlam. "I'm gonter hev both of you youngsters before the peace justice," he finally said; "we'll soon find out what's wrong here. Climb down out o' that car, you, and come along with me, the both of you." "Do you think I'm scared of him?" Pee-wee demanded as he climbed down. "You _will_ be scared of him, he's got a big book," said Peter. "I ain't scared of big books," Pee-wee announced; "I know bigger books, camp registers; I bet it isn't as big as a map book." "You'll see," said Peter, darkly. CHAPTER XXVI THE CULPRIT AT THE BAR The book could not have been so very big, for Justice of the Peace Fee lived in a very small house. It was almost concealed among trees fifty yards or so up the road.