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. "_You let me go, do you hear!_" he shouted.

"Well, what were you doing here then, huh?" the officer asked gruffly.
"Yer gave'm the tip, didn't yer?"

"You let go, I'm not going to run away," Pee-wee said. "Do you think I'm
scared of you? You let me go!"

"Do yer know what an accessory is?" Detective Spotson demanded, loosening
his grip somewhat.