“Snow, the detective, was there, and I whispered in his ear.

“‘Say,’ I says, ’do you realize that for the fust time since the robbery here’s a lot of folks leavin’ the house?  How do you know but what—­’

“He winked and nodded brisk.  ‘I’ll attend to that,’ he says.

“But he didn’t have to.  Parker spoke fust, and took the wind out of his sails.

“‘Gentlemen,’ says he, ’I don’t know how the rest of you feel, but, as for me, I don’t start without clear skirts.  I suggest that Mr. Brown and Mr. Wingate here search each one of us, thoroughly.  Who knows,’ says he, laughin’, ’but what I’ve got that precious stolen paper tucked inside my sweater?  Ha! ha!  Come on, fellers!  I’ll be first.’

“He tossed the ball into a chair and marched into the office, the rest of the players after him, takin’ it as a big joke.  And there the searchin’ was done, and done thorough, ’cause Peter asked Mr. Snow to help, and he knew how.  One thing was sure; Pa Gabe’s agreement wa’n’t hid about the persons of that football team.  Everybody laughed—­that is, all but the old man and the detective.  Seemed to me that Snow was kind of disappointed, and I couldn’t see why.  ’Twa’n’t likely any of them was thieves.

“Cap’n Parker picked up his football and started off for the launch.  He’d got about ha’fway to the shore when Willie—­who’d been stand-in’ with the rest of the help, lookin’ on—­stepped for’ard pretty brisk and whispered in the ear of the Pinkerton man.  The detective jumped, sort of, and looked surprised and mighty interested.

“‘By George!’ says he.  ‘I never thought of that.’  Then he run to the edge of the piazza and called.

“‘Mr. Parker!’ he sings out.  ‘Oh, Mr. Parker!’

“Parker was at the top of the little rise that slopes away down to the landin’.  The rest of the eleven was scattered from the shore to the hotel steps.  He turns, without stoppin’, and answers.

“‘What is it?’ he sings out, kind of impatient.

“‘There’s just one thing we forgot to look at,’ shouts Snow.  ’Merely a matter of form, but just bring that—­Hey!  Stop him!  Stop him!’

“For Parker, instead of comin’ back, had turned and was leggin’ it for the launch as fast as he could, and that was some.

“‘Stop!’ roars the Pinkerton man, jumpin’ down the steps.  ‘Stop, or—­’

“‘Hold him, Jim!’ screeched Parker, over his shoulder.  One of the biggest men on the eleven—­one of the three ‘friends’ who’d been so obligin’ as to come down on purpose to play football—­made a dive, caught the detective around the waist, and threw him flat.

“‘Go on, Ed!’ he shouts.  ‘I’ve got him, all right.’

“Ed—­meanin’ Parker—­was goin’ on, and goin’ fast.  All hands seemed to be frozen stiff, me and Jonadab and Peter T. included.  As for me, I couldn’t make head nor tail of the doin’s; things was comin’ too quick for my understandin’.