As a disorderly retreat it was a masterpiece.
It was not in Pee-wee's nature to run from anything or anybody.

So there he stood amid the telltale mementoes of the dreadful game while Detectives Slippett and Spotson strolled into the field.

They were just in time to behold a fleeting vision of forms wriggling through fences, gliding around buildings, and scrambling over roof tops.
County Detective Spotson was quick to sense the situation.

Taking Pee-wee roughly by the shoulder he demanded in that sophisticated voice and manner which all detectives acquire and which sometimes passes for shrewdness, "What's the big idea, huh?
Tipped them on, did you?
Well, you're a very clever kid, ain't you ?" He removed his big hand from Pee-wee's shoulder and injected his fingers down the back of the boy's neck, grabbing him by the collar and gathering it so that it almost choked him.
This terrifying grip, which is always intended to be considered as the preliminary of arrest, did not frighten Pee-wee as it would have frightened Keekie Joe, but it touched his pride and enraged him, and he wriggled frantically.

There is no indignity which can be put upon a boy like this bullying, official grip of his collar.
"You let me go," he said excitedly; "I wasn't playing here and you didn't see me do anything wrong; you let me go, do you hear!" His utter helplessness, despite every contortion, to free himself from this degrading kind of grasp, drove him distracted and he kicked with all his might and main.