"Hiram Driggs had the canoe taken in there!" muttered the boy.
"Just my luck. I couldn't get into that building unless I broke
a window---and I don't dare do that."
Still determined to get at the canoe, if possible, Fred stole
down to the inclined platform from which boats were carried to
the water. But the water-front entrance to the boathouse also
proved to be locked.
"There's no show for me here," grunted the young prowler. "I
wonder if any of the windows have been left unlocked."
His good sense told him that it would be a serious matter indeed
to raise a window and enter the building---if he were caught.
But Fred, after a few moments of strained listening, decided to
take the chance. At any hazard that he dared take he must get
to the war canoe and put it out of commission for all time.
He tried three of the windows. All of them proved to be locked.
"I'm going to have some more of my usual luck," groaned young
Ripley. "I wonder why it is that I always have such poor luck
when I have my heart most set on doing a thing?"
He was slipping along to the fourth window when he heard a sound
that almost caused his heart to stop beating.
Merely the sound of footsteps pausing by the gate to the boatyard---that
was all, for a moment. But Fred cowered in acute dread.
"Who's in there?" called a steady voice, that filled Fred Ripley
with consternation, He knew that voice! It belonged to a member
of the Gridley police force.
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