and so sudden was the movement that I had no time to get
out of the way.

One of these men seized the boat, and the other, in whom I recognized
Stevens, the constable from Torrentville, grasped me by the collar, and
dragged me out of the boat to the shore.

"We have got you at last," said the officer.

"Hookie!" shouted Sim, as he stood up in the boat gazing at me, with his
eyes distended, and his mouth wide open.

My tyrants had me again.

CHAPTER XXV.

TWO HOURS IN JAIL.

The appearance of the constable was a sufficient explanation of the
misfortune which had befallen me. The man with him was a stranger to me.
The mail boy had delivered his message to Captain Fishley, and the
constable had been sent down to Riverport to arrest me; but not finding
me there, and probably learning from the hotel-keeper where I had gone,
he lay in wait for me at the Ford.

The officer and his companion were unnecessarily rough and insulting to
me, I thought; but when I consider the exceedingly bad reputation which
I had made, I am not much surprised. I was dragged out of the boat, my
legs soused into the water, and my elaborate toilet--made in view of the
fact that I was to face Miss Emily Goodridge during the excursion--was
badly deranged.

Of course Emily and Flora screamed when I was pulled out of the boat;
but I could hardly help laughing, in spite of my mishap, when I saw Sim
Gwynn standing on the seat of the boat so as to exhibit his bow legs to
the best advantage, with the stupid stare of wonder and terror on his
face. The boat was floating down the river with the current, bearing my
companions away from me.

"Row back to the hotel, Sim, and tell my brother I have been taken up,"
I shouted.

"Hookie!" responded Sim.

Before I could say any more, my savage captors, with as much parade and
violence as though I had been a grizzly bear, dragged me to the wagon in
the road, in which sat Captain Fishley. I was satisfied that Sim, after
he recovered his senses, would be able to conduct the boat in safety to
the hotel, and I did not worry about my companions.

"Well, Buck Bradford," said my old tyrant, "you are caught at last."

"Yes, I am caught at last," I replied; for I had resolved to put a
cheerful face upon the matter.

"What have you done with the money you stole from the letter?" he
demanded, gruffly.

"I didn't steal any money from the letter. You will have to ask Ham
Fishley what has become of that