“He run--don't you worry about that! Likewise he dodged. One chap swooped at him, and he ducked under his arms. Another made a dive, and he jumped over him. The third one he pushed one side with his hand. 'Pushed!' did I say? 'Knocked' would be better, for the feller--the carpenter 'twas--went over and over like a barrel rollin' down hill. But there was two more left, and one of 'em was bound to have him. “Then a window upstairs banged open. “'Oh, Mr. Bearse!' screamed a voice--Grace Sterzer's voice. 'Don't let them get you!' “We all heard her, in spite of the shoutin' and racket. Willie heard her, too. The two fellers, one at each side, was almost on him, when he stopped, looked up, jumped back, and, as cool as a rain barrel in January, he dropped that ball and kicked it. “I can see that picture now, like a tableau at a church sociable. The fellers that was runnin', the others on the ground, and that literary pie passer with his foot swung up to his chin. “And the ball! It sailed up and up in a long curve, began to drop, passed over the piazza roof, and out of sight. “'Lock your door, Miss Sterzer,' sung out Fred Bearse--'Willie' for short. 'Lock your door and keep that ball. I think your father's paper is inside it.' “As sure as my name is Barzilla Wingate, he had kicked that football straight through the open window into old Gabe's room.” The depot master whooped and slapped his knee. Mr. Wingate grinned delightedly and continued: “There!” he went on, “the cat's out of the bag, and there ain't much more to tell. Everybody made a bolt for the room, old Gabe and Peter T. in the lead. Grace let her dad in, and the ball was ripped open in a hurry. Sure enough! Inside, between the leather and the rubber, was the missin' agreement. Among the jubilations and praise services nobody thought of much else until Snow, the Pinkerton man, come upstairs, his clothes tore and his eyes and nose full of sand. “'Humph!' says he. 'You've got it, hey? Good! Well, you haven't got friend Parker. Look!' “Such of us as could looked out of the window. There was the launch, with Parker and his three 'friends' in it, headin' two-forty for blue water. “'Let 'em go,' says old Gabe, contented. 'I wouldn't arrest 'em if I could. This is no police-station job.' “It come out afterwards that Parker was a young chap just from law school, who had gone to work for the firm of shysters who was attendin' to the Gordon interests. They had tracked Sterzer to the Old Home House, and had put their new hand on the job of gettin' that agreement. Fust he'd tried to shine up to Grace, but the shine--her part of it--had wore off. Then he decided to steal it; and he done it, just how nobody knows. Snow, the detective, says he cal'lates Henry, the servant, is wiser'n most folks thinks, fur's that's concerned.