The constable said to us, “Naow then, you youngsters, you been compoundin’ a felony, that’s what you been doin’. Now who’s inside that van? Who yer hidin’? Somebody, hey?” “I’m not denying anything,” I told him. “All I say is we didn’t break any law.” “Wall, yer admit yer concealin’ somebody in thar, ain’t yer—huh?” he shouted. I said, “I’m not denying it, but I’m not scared of you.” He said, “Yaas? Wall, we’ll soon see. We’ll have him under lock and key for sartin, if that’s what he likes.” “That’s his favorite pastime,” I said; “you don’t know him.” “Surraound this here wagon, you people,” the constable said, “and keep a watch on these kids; they’re pretty slippery.” So then the constable and another man began chopping down the doors. “It’s up to them,” I said to Pee-wee; “we should worry.” “What do you suppose Brent will do?” he said. “They’ll lock him up till the whole thing is explained,” I said; “they won’t take our word for anything. He’s got troubles of his own at last; I hope he’s satisfied. He wanted bread and water, now he’ll get it.” “They’ll lock us up, too, won’t they?” the kid said, good and scared. “That man is keeping his eye on us.” All the while the dog kept yelping and clawing at the doors and the people crowded closer around so as to see better. Gee, I felt kind of sorry for Brent, because I saw he was up against it. All of a sudden down came one of the doors and the bloodhound sprang inside and came out again. The constable poked his head in and said, “_Well, I’ll be jiggered!_” Pee-wee and I looked inside and, good night, that van was as empty as an ice cream soda glass when Pee-wee is through with it. “Well—what—do—you—know—about—that?” I stammered under my breath to Pee-wee. “His dream came true,” Pee-wee whispered to me; “he kept his vow, he foiled everybody, he _escaped_. He—he—he what-d’ye-call-it—he hasn’t lived in vain—hey?” “He hasn’t lived in the van very long, that’s sure,” I whispered. “He has put it all over these people and us too. Can you beat that fellow?” “He defied locks and bolts and dungeons like Houdini,” the kid said. I guess he saw Houdini in the movies. “Sure, he’s a real hero at last,” I said; “but he’s got _me_ guessing.” The constable and a couple of other men were stamping around inside the van and he called out, “Thar ain’t no clew here, nothin’ but this here can opener.” And then he came out with the can opener in his hand. Gee whiz, I just couldn’t help shouting right out in front of everybody. I said, “That clew explains the whole mystery. There was a can of baked beans in that van, and he must have opened it and emptied them out and secreted himself in the empty can. When we threw the can away, he escaped.” The constable said, “What’s all this talk? I want to know who you kids is, anyway. And I want ter know what you’re doin’ here, runnin’ this big van all by yourselves.”