Bud Takes To The Hills

In a little village which he had glimpsed from the top of a hill Bud
went into the cluttered little general store and bought a few blocks of
slim, evil smelling matches and a couple of pounds of sliced bacon, a
loaf of stale bread, and two small cans of baked beans. He stuffed
them all into the pocket of his overcoat, and went out and hunted up a
long-distance telephone sign. It had not taken him more than an hour to
walk to the town, for he had only to follow a country road that branched
off that way for a couple of miles down a valley. There was a post
office and the general store and a couple of saloons and a blacksmith
shop that was thinking of turning into a garage but had gone no further
than to hang out a sign that gasoline was for sale there. It was all
very sordid and very lifeless and altogether discouraging in the drizzle
of late afternoon. Bud did not see half a dozen human beings on his way
to the telephone office, which he found was in the post office.

He called up San Francisco, and got the chief of police's office on the
wire, and told them where they would find the men who had robbed that
jewelry store of all its diamonds and some other unset jewels. Also he
mentioned the car that was stolen, and that was now stalled and waiting
for some kind soul to come and give it a tow.