Altogether, Penrod felt that his case was worse than Sam's--until Sam offered a suggestion that roused such horrible possibilities concerning the principal item of their offense that all thought of the smaller indictments disappeared.
"Listen, Penrod," Sam quavered: "What--what if that--what if that ole horse maybe b'longed to a--policeman!" Sam's imagination was not of the comforting kind.

"What'd they--do to us, Penrod, if it turned out he was some policeman's horse ?" Penrod was able only to shake his head.

He did not reply in words; but both boys thenceforth considered it almost inevitable that Whitey had belonged to a policeman, and, in their sense of so ultimate a disaster, they ceased for a time to brood upon what their parents would probably do to them.

The penalty for stealing a policeman's horse would be only a step short of capital, they were sure.

They would not be hanged; but vague, looming sketches of something called the penitentiary began to flicker before them.
It grew darker in the cellar, so that finally they could not see each other.
"I guess they're huntin' for us by now," Sam said huskily.