"Come now, no lying about it." "The nearest that I come to understanding you, as yet," Dick answered in an unruffled voice, "is that you appear to be trying to be offensive." "I'll be more than offensive with you, before I get through!" cried Bert, his temper rising.
The third member of the visiting party was a man of about forty years, of sandy complexion and with a stubby, bristling red moustache.
He looked like a man who had been born a fighter, though his face expressed keen attention rather than a desire to be quarrelsome.
In dress this man looked as though he might be a farmer.

Dick and his friends judged the man to be a rustic constable.
"A nice trick you played on us!" Bert went on angrily.

"You took our front tires off the wheels of the car and ran away with them." "Easy! Careful!" Dick smilingly advised.

"Did anyone see us take the tires off and run away with them ?" Bert looked astonished, then gulped chokingly.

Did Prescott and his friends intend to deny the charge?
"No one had to see you take the tires," Bert went on angrily.
"All that is necessary is for us to discover the merchandise on you!" "Then you have missed some tires, and you think I'm wearing them ?" Dick chuckled.
"Don't try to sneak, lie or equivocate" commanded Bert Dodge, his face flushing with anger.