"If they don't catch the thief what good are the police, anyway ?" "I don't care much about their finding him, unless they also find my forty-two dollars on him," mournfully proclaimed another of the losers.
"I am sorry for you, ladies.

I don't deserve any sympathy, or very little, for myself.

Well, as the scoundrel has gotten away, and as young Prescott is growing stronger, I shall go on my way to other patients who need me." Dick was still rather dizzy and weak, but Dave's right arm supported him.
"Does your head ache ?" inquired Greg.
"Guess," advised Dick dryly.
As the two policemen had given up looking for the fugitive, and had gone back to their posts, the crowd was melting.

It was nearly noon, and most people on the streets were moving homeward.
"Guess you won't have a large appetite for the coming meal," observed Tom Reade to Dick.

"Whew! What a crack that sounded like when the scoundrel struck you! It must have jarred away some of your appetite." "I can't tell about that until I try to eat," Dick answered.
"No matter whether you eat much or not, but you want to be sure to ask your mother for two cups of strong coffee with your dinner," advised Darrin, with all the readiness of the amateur physician.
"I guess I'll go home, fellows," announced Dick, as the noon whistles blew.