“Really,” the chief said, rubbing his eyes and peering at Paul. “Don’t you live on Bert Creek? And you came all the way to Dangritown to tell us that?”
“No,” Paul retorted. “I was out in the jungle hunting goblins, and I found something out. I found out someone is selling rum to the goblins, and there’s a lot of goblins getting together to drink it. Rum by the amphora, and an army of goblins. I just thought someone in charge should know.”
The chief and the sergeant exchanged a look. The chief looked back at Paul.
“What’s your name, Mister Rancher?”
“Paul.”
“Paul. Paul Rancher. Paul, you’re a young lad and I wouldn’t want to accuse you of lying, but sometimes youngsters think it’s a lark to prank the police. You aren’t trying to prank me, are you? Because this would not be a funny pran
