CHAPTER XIII
BEFORE THE SQUIRE
TIMOTHY PERKFELL was a justice of the peace in Hayden. He was called Squire by nearly every one. The title meant a good deal to Mr. Perkfell, and he would have felt insulted had any one omitted it when speaking to him. That is unless he was called “Judge,” which he liked better than “Squire.”
The Squire’s office was in a small room back of Hank Lee’s grocery store, and could be entered from there. It was a good sized room, for occasionally, trials for minor offences were held there. There were a number of chairs, a big stove, a picture of General Washington and another of the Governor on the wall. The Squire usually sat at a big desk, behind a row of law books.
It needed but a glance to tell that the volumes were law books, because they looked so uninteresting. They were bound in leather, and, on the backs, were such titles as “Hampersmith on Contracts,” “Vroom XLIV,” “Corbin’s Forms,” etc. The books were always very dusty, which would seem to indicate that they were seldom used, and this was the case, for Squire Perkfell knew very little about law, and certainly not enough to understand the contents of the big books.
Still it made a good impression to have them on his desk, and whenever he was in doubt how to decide a case he would take up one of the volumes, dust it carefully, pretend to hunt through it for a decision, and then say something like this:
“Ahem! I have listened to the learned counsel on both sides, and, on consulting Blackstone in the celebrated case of Nottingham versus Snagdeck, I find that there is very much similar in this action. Blackstone expressed my ideas fully. I therefore find—” and he would announce his decision.
The Squire was rather an elderly man, with white hair, a white beard, somewhat stained by tobacco juice, and he had a glass eye. Perhaps that is why he did not oftener read his law books. He was quite dignified, or, at least, he used to think he was, which amounts to almost the same thing.
It was before this man that poor Dan was to be given a preliminary hearing, on the charge of being a burglar. As the Squire had no authority to sit as a magistrate he could not finally dispose of the case. The two constables hurried to the office and found him sitting at his desk.
“Good mornin’, Squire,” greeted Mr. Walker.
“Ah, good morning, my good man,” replied the Squire in rather chilling tones.
“How-d’ do, Judge Perkfell,” greeted Constable Wolff, who saw the somewhat cold welcome his companion received.
“Ah, officer, good morning. It’s a fine day,” returned Judge Perkfell, pleased at having his title conferred on him thus early. “What can I do for you? Do you wish a warrant, or a subpoena?”
“Neither, thanks,” replied Mr. Wolff, rubbing his hands at this indication of being on good terms with the Squire. Mr. Walker felt a little hurt, and resolved, after this, to always address the justice as “Judge.”
“Perhaps then, you want me to draw up a deed, or a mortgage or some legal paper.”
“No, Judge, but we would like you to hold court.”
“Hold court? Why, you don’t mean to tell me there is a prisoner in Hayden? I did not hear of it.”
The Judge, who had only a little while before entered his office, had not seen the commotion when Dan was brought through the town.
“Yes, sir—I mean Judge,” went on Constable Wolff. “I’ve got a desperate prisoner in the jail.”
“You mean we’ve got him,” interrupted Constable Walker. “I helped catch him jest th’ same as you.”
“So ye did, but I discovered the clues.”
“Never mind, officers,” spoke the Judge sharply, as he did not think it dignified to have a dispute in his office. “Who is the prisoner?”
“A burglar!” exclaimed Constable Wolff.
“Dan Hardy!” answered Constable Walker in the same breath.
“You don’t mean to tell me Dan Hardy has been arrested as a burglar?” said the justice, as much surprised as he thought it consistent with his dignity to be.
“Yep, Squire—I mean Your Honor,” answered Mr. Wolff. “I catched—I mean we catched him this mornin’. He robbed Dr. Maxwell’s house last night, an’ we discovered part of th’ evidence on him,” and he showed the spoon he had found in Dan’s pocket. “Now we want you, if you will, t’ hold court, an’ properly commit him t’ jail, until th’ Grand Jury can sit on his case.”
“Wait a minute!” exclaimed the Squire. “I am the person to judge what is to be done in this case, not the officer who makes the arrest. It may be that I will find it unnecessary to commit him for the action of the Grand Inquest. I shall judge of that when I hear the evidence.”
“But he’s guilty, Mr. Perk—I mean Judge,” said Mr. Walker quickly.
“Silence!” cried the Squire, offended at the slip Mr. Walker had made. “I am the proper person to decide that. You may bring the prisoner before me in half an hour. Meanwhile I will look up certain points of law, and I do not wish to be disturbed. Now clear the court,” and the justice spoke as if there was a crowd of persons before him.
The truth was he wanted to be alone, to look up some authority in the matter and see if he had a right to hold court in the case of a burglar. He had never done so before.
It did not take Squire Perkfell long to determine that he had authority to act in the case of a person charged with robbery, and then he waited for the officers to bring Dan in.
Meanwhile the two constables went to the jail, and got their prisoner.
“What are you going to do with me now?” asked Dan, curiously.
“Ye’re goin’ t’ be tried,” said Mr. Wolff.
“Will Mr. Savage be there? I think I have a right to have his testimony,” declared Dan, who, from having read of trials knew a little about law.
“I s’pose he’ll be there,” replied Jacob Wolff. “Mebby ye won’t be so glad t’ see him, after he tells what he knows. Hank Lee is goin’ t’ testify too.”
“What does he know about me?”
“Better wait, an’ see.”
“I am entitled to some rights in this matter,” went on Dan. “I should be represented by a lawyer.”
“There ain’t none in town now,” said Mr. Walker. “John Burge has gone t’ Canestota, and Ed Lancing is over t’ his mother’s. But Judge Perkfell will know what t’ do.”
“I am entitled to a representative in court,” insisted Dan, “and if I can’t have a lawyer I wish you would send for Mr. Harrison.”
“What, that blacksmith? He don’t know no law,” objected Jacob Wolff.
“Maybe not, but he is my friend, and he told me to let him know when I was in trouble, and I’m in trouble now.”
“Wa’al, I’ll tell him,” said Mr. Walker, not very kindly, for he did not want to lose anything of what was to take place. “I’ll tell him t’ come t’ Squire Perkfell’s court. Jake, d’ ye think ye kin manage him?” and he nodded at Dan.
“Oh, don’t be afraid, I’m not going to escape,” said the boy, understanding what was meant.
“I guess ye’d better not,” spoke Mr. Wolff fiercely taking a better grip on Dan’s coat sleeve.
While one constable went, rather reluctantly, to summon the veteran blacksmith, the other led Dan toward Hank Lee’s store, a crowd of persons gathering as soon as they emerged from the town hall.
“Where are we going?” asked Dan.
“Through th’ store, t’ th’ Judge’s office,” replied Mr. Wolff. “Th’ Judge, he’s lookin’ up th’ law, an’ he don’t want t’ be disturbed fer half an hour. We’ll wait in Hank’s store.”
“I had rather wait in jail,” spoke Dan, who felt he would be subjected to ridicule and abuse in the grocery, with its crowd of men and boys.
“Mebby so, but ye can’t do as ye like when ye’re under arrest.”
He led the boy into the store. Though it was quite early there was a big throng in it, for the rumor had spread that Dan was to have a preliminary hearing, and all wanted to be present. They knew they could go through the store into the Squire’s office.
“Clear th’ way fer th’ representative of th’ law!” exclaimed Jacob Wolff, as he led Dan in.
“Jake’s in his glory now,” said one man.
“That’s right,” added another. “He’d rather be where he is than President of th’ United States, I guess.”
Dan was led to a chair, near the door which opened into the Squire’s office. The half hour was not quite up, and Mr. Wolff knew better than to go in before it was time.
“So you got him, did you?” asked Hank Lee, coming over and standing before the constable and his prisoner. “I always knowed he was bad. He played a mean trick on me one day, and I reckon I’ve got even with him now. I’ll get some reward, won’t I, for telling you he was the robber?”
“Mebby so,” answered Mr. Wolff. He would have preferred Mr. Lee should say nothing about his information, as, if he did, it might take away from the glory coming to the two officers.
“Did you give the constables information that led to my false arrest?” asked Dan indignantly, of Hank Lee.
“Yes, I did, and I’m glad they got you. Now I’m even with you for setting that bull after me. I told you I’d fix you.”
“I didn’t set the bull after you, Mr. Lee, and it wasn’t my fault that you were frightened by it.”
“I wasn’t frightened, I tell you! I jest ran because I was afraid he might hit me, and knock the money out of my pocket. I got up in the tree so’s I could count it and see if it was right.”
At this version of the story, so different from the truth Dan could not help smiling. It was evident that Mr. Lee had told no one exactly what had happened, or how he had begged Dan not to desert him, to go for help.
“Oh, you’re laughing now,” sneered the storekeeper, as he saw the smile on Dan’s face, “but you’ll be sorry enough when you’re behind the bars. I always knowed you’d come to no good end. It runs in the family.”
“See here!” exclaimed Dan, springing to his feet. “You can insult me, if you will, because you are bigger and stronger than I am, but you shan’t insult the memory of my father and mother! I come of as good family as you do, and you know it. You gave false information about me, because you have a grudge against me. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t true, and I’ll prove it.”
Dan’s righteous anger seemed to get the best of him, and he struggled to get loose from the restraining hold of Constable Wolff. He had no idea what he wanted to do, except he felt as if he would like to strike the mean storekeeper.
“Here! Hold on!” cried the officer, roughly dragging Dan back. “None of that! You’re a prisoner!”
“Yes, you’re a felon!” added Mr. Lee with a sneer.
“I’d rather be an innocent prisoner than a coward!” cried Dan, remembering how the storekeeper whined when the bull had him up a tree.
“Who’s a coward?”
“You are. You were afraid to stay up the tree alone when I wanted to go after help to catch the bull.”
“What’s that?” asked Sam Porter, one of the men in the store. “I didn’t hear the story that way. Tell us about it, Dan.”
Hardly knowing why he did so, Dan related the story, showing the cowardice of the storekeeper.
“Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho!” laughed Sam. “That’s a good one on you, Lee. Treed by a bull, and dasn’t stick your foot down! Ha! Ho! That’s prutty good!”
The rest of the crowd joined in the laugh at the discomfited Mr. Lee, who angrily retired to his private office to make out bills. Dan had gotten the best of him, and, somehow the sympathy of the crowd, which had been rather against the boy, now turned his way.
Suddenly the door leading to the office of the Squire opened, and Mr. Perkfell announced:
“Let the prisoner enter. I will now hold court.”
There was a scramble on the part of the crowd to get good seats, and Constable Wolff led Dan in. As the boy was arraigned before the Squire, Constable Walker came in, followed by Mr. Harrison. Dan’s heart leaped, and his courage came back as he saw his sturdy friend, the village blacksmith.
“We will now proceed with the hearing,” announced the justice. “Order in the court!”
“LET THE PRISONER STAND UP,” SAID THE JUSTICE.—