“We’ll have you arrested, Dave Darrin!” moaned Ripley.

“You will, eh?” Dave demanded, breaking away from Prescott’s restraining hold and making for Fred.

“No, no, no!” cried Ripley, cowering.

“Yes, we will—–­you can wager we will!” yelled Dodge from a safer distance.

“Arrested—–­for what?” demanded Darrin.

“For assaulting us,” returned Bert Dodge.  “Oh, you’ll catch it!”

“Have I been guilty of any more of an assault than I found you fellows engaged in”, Dave asked coolly.  “Don’t you think you’d look rather funny in court when it was known why I laid the whip over you?”

“We’ll get the better of you, just the same,” yelled Ripley, who had now retreated to the side of his friend and felt bolder.  “My father’s a lawyer—–­the smartest in the town.”

“And he’s also a gentleman,” broke in Dick.  “I wish his son took after him.  As for arrest—–­and trouble in court—–­bosh!  Try it on!”

Prescott now walked coolly to where his little package lay, and found it uninjured.

“How did you happen to come along on the wagon?” Dick asked, as Fred and Bert limped away from their Waterloo.

“One of the express company’s drivers was late coming back from dinner, and there was a package that had to be delivered at once,” Darrin answered.  “The manager offered me ten cents to make the delivery.  I am glad that I took the job.  Where are you going?”

“In there,” Prescott answered, pointing to the house.  “I’ve got to deliver this book collect to a Mrs. Carhart.”

“Get up on the seat and I’ll drive you in there,” proposed Dave.  “Though I don’t believe there’s any one living in the house.  All the front doors and windows are boarded up.”

After five minutes of doorbell ringing Dick concluded that he would find no Mrs. Carhart there.

“I guess I understand,” nodded Prescott.  “Either Dodge or Ripley must have sent that ’phone message.  That was their way to get me alone where they could both handle me without much danger of interference.”

“It turned out finely—–­for them,” chuckled Dave, as both boys climbed back to the seat of the wagon.  “But say, do you think they could really make any trouble for me for using the whip over them?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t believe they’ll try, anyway,” Dick answered thoughtfully.  “It wouldn’t be very nice for Fred to have his father find out how his son spends his time and pocket money.”

Dave drove back to Main Street, letting Dick off at his corner.  Down the side street a few doors and into the bookshop he hurried.

“Back again?” was Mr. Prescott’s greeting.  “What was the matter—–­the volume not satisfactory!”

“No such party at the address,” his son answered.  “But I think I can explain why the order was ’phoned in.”

Dick then proceeded to narrate what had happened.  His father listened with growing anger.