"I did arrest a young rascal of about that age half an
hour ago," he continued, "just as he was leaving this island on a raft;
but it was only a small affair, built of two or three logs, and not at
all such a raft as you describe. I've got the boy out here now, and I
believe him to be one of your pals, in spite of your cheeky talk. Yon
don't want to give me any more of it, either," he concluded, in a
fierce tone, assumed to reassert the dignity of his office. "So just
cork up, and come along quietly, or you may find yourself in trouble."
"All right," replied Billy Brackett, calmly; "but first, perhaps you'll
be kind enough to tell me who you are, why you are taking such an
interest in me, and where you want me to go."
"I am the Sheriff of Dubuque County, Iowa," was the answer. "I have a
warrant for your arrest as a member of the most dangerous gang of
counterfeiters that has ever operated in this section of country, and I
want you to go with me to the county jail, which will be only a
stopping-place on your journey to State-prison."
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sheriff, and obliged for
your courtesy," said Billy Brackett, politely. "Now if you will do me
the favor to read the names mentioned in your warrant, I shall have
nothing further to request."
"William Gresham, _alias_ Gilder, _et al.
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