CHAPTER VIII.
A PRINCE IN RAGS.
Meanwhile the crowd about the station had watched the departure of Deacon Cornhill in silence, but no sooner had he disappeared in the distance than Squire Hardy held a consultation of a few words with his nearest friends. Then he turned to address Rob, who, realizing that a crisis of some kind was at hand, calmly waited for him to speak.
“Youngster,” began the ’squire, “it must be plain to you by this time that you and your followers made a mistake in coming here as you have. In the first place, it can be of no advantage to you, and in the second place, you are not wanted by us.”
“I am sorry, sir, that it has happened as it has, but it does not seem to me that any one is to blame. We have come with honest intentions——”
“It requires honest people to carry out honest intentions. It’s the doing that counts. Come, it is nearly night, and you have barely time in which to get out of town before dark. The walking is good on the railroad track.”
The tone, more than the words, nettled Ragged Rob, and he exclaimed:
“It will be better or worse before I or my friends go that way.”
“Don’t you throw any of your New York sass in my face, you ragged dog. You’ll either get out of town pretty lively of your own account, or we will get help for you in a way you may not like. I give you fair warning, and five minutes of time to get started in.”
A groan came from the suffering man on the settee, while the others of the forlorn little group turned pale with fright. But Little Hickory was made of sterner stuff, and, drawing his slender figure to its full height, making him like a fairy prince in a disguise of rags, he replied, in a tone heard by the most distant of the spectators:
“Sir, you cannot drive us away without making trouble for yourself. We have come here peacefully, and we demand fair treatment. This poor man here”—pointing to the invalid Mr. Little—“cannot take a step to save his life. And this sick woman”—now pointing to Mrs. Willet—“deserves kind treatment at your hands.”
This fearless speech was received with varying effect by the onlookers. It won the respect, if not the admiration of some, while still others thought that perhaps the ’squire had been hasty in his denouncement. Others again looked askance toward the justice, while he, feeling that he had been openly and defiantly humiliated, shook with anger, and he exclaimed, in a voice husky with passion:
“Fool! if you think this high-handed piece of impudence is going through all right you’ll find yourself most —— mistaken.”
’Squire Hardy used a word where I have inserted the dash which I do not care to quote, while he advanced toward Ragged Rob with a look of intense hatred. He seemed about to seize the brave boy in his grasp of iron, when the latter said:
“Lay a hand on me if you dare, Mr. Hardy!”
“Be careful how you make yourself liable for striking the boy,” spoke up one of the spectators, who was standing at the corner of the station.
“If it wasn’t for the law I’d throw the young rapscallion into ——” using another word that may have fitted his feelings, but which grated harshly even on that exciting scene. “As it is I will make out a warrant for their arrest as quick as I can find pen and paper to do it, Johnson.”
“If you do you will have to get Sheriff Stanyan to serve it, ’squire.”
“I suppose you think I ought to let these hoodlums go where they wish, Johnson. I tell you the safety of the public demands that I stop them where they are.”
“You mistake my meaning, ’squire. While I may be sorry that they have come, I believe in fair treatment, and abiding by the law.”
“I should like to know who is breaking the law if it is not them,” snapped the justice, who was already inquiring for pen, ink and paper.
“I hardly know what charge you can bring against them, ’squire, but you are doubtless better posted than I.”
“If I weren’t I’d hold my mouth,” muttered the other, though being careful not to speak loud enough for Mr. Johnson to hear. In a louder tone he cried:
“I can arrest the whole crowd for vagrancy, and bring them up as suspicious characters. I calculate enough can be brought against them to put them in the lockup to-night, and to send them adrift to-morrow. At any rate, I propose to see what can be done. I want some one to go for Sheriff Stanyan. As Mr. Jones, the station agent, may wish to have his place cleared of such stock before night, I should advise that the messenger go for the officer with all speed possible.”
At the conclusion of this speech the ’squire turned to see what effect his words had upon the little group of homeless strangers. He was disappointed to find that they had not brought any visible show of trepidation to any of them.
“Look here, Trask,” addressing one of the spectators, continued the justice, “you have got a good horse. Go to Bradford and find Sheriff Stanyan. Tell him I will have the papers all made out by the time he gets here.”
“It’s awful traveling, ’squire, and my horse——”
“Don’t stop to consider the traveling, Trask, at a time like this. The safety of the public must be upheld. You shall lose nothing by the trip.”
Without further opposition the man called Trask started for his team, which was hitched nearby, and a minute later he rode away on his errand, while ’Squire Hardy went into the station agent’s office to make out the required paper.
Though there was little display of excitement on the surface, it was really an exciting situation. The onlookers began to gather in little knots to talk over the affair, a few blaming the ’squire, but the majority upholding him in his decisive action. As is usual under such conditions, the forlorn strangers, ragged and penniless, proved to be equally friendless.
Ragged Rob improved the opportunity to speak a few words of encouragement to his companions, trying to assure them that it would be all right as soon as Deacon Cornhill should return. But even he felt in his heart that the kindly deacon would be powerless to meet and overcome the increasing enmity of his townspeople.