They have no wish to defy police authority, and usually disappear at the first alarm, to travel on to the next stopping place. So there was no fear of any desperate encounter in this raid.
The railroad detectives said as much, and expressed the belief that they would not even have to draw their revolvers.
"We'll be glad of the chance to clean the rascals out," said one officer, "for they hang around there, and rob freight cars whenever they get the chance."
"But we'd like a chance to talk to them--at least to this Hogan,"
explained Joe. "We want to find what he did with Mr. Varley's jewelry."
"Well, then, the only thing to do is to surround them, and hold them there until you interview them," was the decision. "I guess we can do it."
Shiller's Woods were near the railroad line, in a lonesome spot, and the outskirts were soon reached. The auto was left in charge of a switchman at his shanty near a crossing and the occupants, consisting of the two detectives, Joe, Pop and Reggie, proceeded on foot. They all carried stout cudgels, though the officers had revolvers for use in emergency.
But they were not needed. Pop Dutton knew the way well to a little hollow where the tramps slept and ate. He led the others to it, and so quietly did they approach that the tramps were surrounded before they knew it.
Down in a grassy hollow were half a dozen of them gathered about a fire over which was stewing some mixture in a tomato can, suspended over the flame on a stick, by means of a bit of wire.
"Good afternoon, boys!" greeted one of the officers, as he stood up, and looked down on the men. It was apparent at first glance that Hogan was one of them. Pop had silently indicated him.
The tramps started up, but seeing that they were surrounded settled back philosophically. Only Hogan looked eagerly about for a way of escape.
"It's no go," said one of the railroad detectives. "Just take it easy, and maybe you won't be so badly off as you imagine."
Hogan had been found at last. It developed that Pop had asked his former "friends of the road" to keep track of him, and send word when located.
This had been done by the ragged man who accosted the old player on the diamond that afternoon.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE SLOW WATCH
"Well, what do you want?" growled Hogan, for he seemed to feel that attention was centered on him.
"Nothing much--no more than usual, that is," said one of the detectives, to whom the story of the looted valise had been told. "Where did you put the stuff you got from this gentleman's bag some time last Spring?" was the sharp question.
"Whose bag?" Hogan wanted to know, with a frown.
"Mine!" exclaimed Reggie. "That is, if you're the man. It was a yellow bag, with lions' heads on the clasps and it contained a Swiss watch, with a gold face; some jewelry, including a bracelet of red stones was also taken."
Hogan started as this catalog was gone over.
"Now look here!" broke in the officer. "These gentlemen are willing to make some concessions to you."
"Yes?" spoke Hogan, non-committally. He seemed easier now.
"Yes. If you'll own up, and give back what you've got left we'll call it off, providing you get out of the State and keep out."
"An' s'posin' I don't?" he asked, defiantly.
"Then it's the jug for yours. You're the one we want. The rest of you can go--and keep away, too," added the detective, significantly.
The tramps slunk off, glad enough to escape. Only Hogan remained.
"Well," he said, but now his nerve was gone. He looked surlily at Pop, and wet his lips nervously.
"Go on," urged the officer.
"I guess I did get a few things from his bag--leastwise it was a satchel like the one he tells about," confessed Hogan.
"Then that clears me!" cried Joe, joyfully.
Reggie Varley held out his hand to the young pitcher.
"It was silly of me ever to have suspected you," he said, contritely.
"Will you forgive me?"
"Of course!" Joe would have forgiven Reggie almost anything.
"Where's the stuff now?" asked the chief detective, sharply.
Hogan laughed.
"Where do you s'pose?" he asked. "Think I can afford to carry Swiss watches with gold faces, or ladies' bracelets? I look like it; don't I?"
Truly he did not, being most disreputable in appearance.
"Did you pawn it?" asked the other officer.
"Yes, and precious little I got out of it. You can have the tickets if you like. I'll never redeem 'em," and he tossed a bunch of pawn tickets over to Reggie, who caught them wonderingly.
"Are--er--are these stubs for the things?" he asked. "How can I get them back?"
"By paying whatever the pawnbrokers advanced on the goods," answered Pop Dutton, who looked quickly over the tickets. He knew most of the places where the goods had been disposed of.
"I'll be glad to do that," went on the young man. "I'm much obliged to you, my good fellow."
Hogan laughed again.
"You're a sport!" he complimented. "Is that all you want of me?"
The detectives consulted together a moment. Then one of them asked Joe and his two friends:
"What do you say? There isn't much to be gained by arresting him. You've got about all you can out of him. I suppose you might as well let him go."
"I'm willing," spoke Joe. "All I wanted was to have my name cleared, and that's been done."
"I don't care to have him prosecuted," spoke Reggie. "It might bring my sister into unpleasant prominence, as most of the things were hers."