"Huh! If neither he nor any of his gang told, then who did?" demanded
Ben, as though that settled it.

"Ben Alvord, what have you been doing?" demanded his mother, as Ben
showed up at the kitchen door.

"Why?"

"Your face is all bruised. Have you been fighting?"

"Yes, ma'am. I had to. I thumped Dick Prescott for telling on us and
getting us all arrested."

"Did Dick say that he told on you?" asked Mrs. Alvord.

"No, ma'am."

"Denied it, didn't he?"

"Yes'm."

"And I guess Dick told the truth. I know who did tell on all you boys,"
announced his mother.

"Who?" demanded Ben sullenly.

"Your little brother, Will."

Willie Alvord was only between four and five; not yet old enough to go
to school.

"I got it all out of the baby this afternoon," continued Mrs. Alvord. "I
saw him playing with a new baseball bat, and I made him tell me where he
got it. It seems that Willie heard you and Toby, and the other boys
talking about your Hallowe'en pranks yesterday morning before you went
to school. Then, later, Willie was out in the street playing, when 'a
nice man'--as Willie called him--came along and got to talking with him.
The man talked about you, it seems, Ben, and he made believe he didn't
think Willie's big brother was very smart. Then Willie up and boasted of
your smartness down at the railroad. The 'nice man' took Willie to the
corner and bought him some candy and a baseball bat, and kept on talking
about you and Toby, and the rest, and of course Willie told the 'nice
man' all he'd heard about the railroad business."

"That 'nice man' must have been the detective," growled Ben. "Oh, he's a
real 'nice man.' If Willie was larger I'd take the baseball bat to him
for talking too much!"

"Well, you won't," warned his mother dryly. "Willie is only a baby, and
didn't know what he was saying. But you'd better go and apologize to
Dick Prescott."

"Huh!" was Ben's undutiful retort. Then he went outside with Toby.

"So Dick didn't tell?" mused Toby. "It was your kid brother?"

"Don't you tell that to any one!" warned Ben Alvord, flushing.

"Why, you'll have to tell it yourself," protested Toby. "You'll surely
have to beg Dick Prescott's pardon after what you said to him before the
whole crowd. If you don't, then I'll tell myself. I'm not going to see
Dick blamed for what he didn't do."

"If you blab to any one," warned Ben angrily, "I'll give you a good
thrashing."

"Try it, and perhaps you'll get more of