“Tell her the store’s been broken into and burglarized,” answered Chub, stolidly. “I’ll make up the money they stole, but I don’t think I ought to pay for the goods taken. And I imagine, from the looks of things, that the robbers took more than twelve dollars’ worth of stuff with them.”
“That’s the worst of it,” mourned Harry. “We can make up the money between us, for you know very well, Chub, we aren’t going to let you pay it all, but we can’t pay for the groceries and things.”
“We haven’t even any way of finding out how much they are worth,” replied Chub. “I suppose I’d better report the robbery to some one. I wonder where the nearest police station is.”
He got up and walked to the back door, Harry following him, and examined it.
“Looks as though some one had just kicked his foot through it, doesn’t it?” he asked. “And here he goes—hello, there must have been two of them! You can see the footprints, Harry. They just climbed the fence here, walked across to the door, and smashed it in so that one of them could put his hand through and turn the key.
