DAN was bitterly disappointed. He thought when Mr. Harrison had brought out the evidence so clearly, and when it was testified that he was far away from the scene of the robbery, that the justice would give a verdict of “not guilty.”
“What does it mean?” asked the boy, much bewildered.
“It means ye’ll have t’ go back t’ jail, that’s what it means,” declared Constable Walker vindictively.
“Yes, an’ stay there ’till yer regular trial at th’ county court house,” added Constable Wolff.
“That is unless you can get some one to go on your bond for a thousand dollars,” explained Justice Perkfell, not so gruffly as he had spoken before. He was well satisfied with himself, and the way he had conducted the case.
“You mean if I can get some one to sign a paper I can go free until my regular trial?”
“That’s it, but whoever signs the paper must be worth at least two thousand dollars. He would be security for your appearance to be tried, that is if the Grand Jury finds an indictment against you. If you should run away in the meanwhile, whoever went on your bond would have to pay a thousand dollars.”
Dan naturally thought of his employer, who was quite wealthy. Certainly he was worth two thousand dollars.
“Will you go bail for me?” asked the boy, turning to Mr. Savage.
“What’s that?” inquired the farmer, as if he had not heard aright.
“Will you be my bondsman?”
“Your bondsman? Go yer bail fer a thousand dollars? Wa’al, I guess not much, Dan Hardy! You must think I’ve got money t’ throw away,” cried the miserly farmer.
“But it would not cost you anything. All you would have to do would be to sign the paper.”
“Yes, an’ ef ye took a notion t’ skip out between now an’ th’ time of yer trial, I’d have t’ pay th’ thousand dollars.”
“But I promise I’ll not ‘skip out’ as you call it Mr. Savage.”
“Wa’al, I ain’t takin’ th’ word of a thief!”
“Do you think I’m a thief?” asked Dan indignantly.
“Ain’t ye jest been found guilty?”
“No, he has not!” exclaimed Mr. Harrison. “Only a jury of twelve men has a right to say whether or not he is guilty. He is only held for trial.”
“Wa’al, I ain’t goin’ t’ risk no thousand dollars on him.”
“Then you’ll not go on my bond?” queried Dan.
“Not much I won’t!”
Poor Dan was down-hearted again. He counted on being allowed his freedom, for he had resolved to do his best to trace the real robbers, and so clear his good name.
“Wa’al, I guess ye’d better come along t’ jail now,” said Constable Wolff. “There ain’t nobody goin’ yer bail. Come on,” and he caught Dan by the coat sleeve to lead him away.
“Stop!” cried Mr. Harrison in a ringing voice.
“What fer?” demanded the constable.
“Dan needn’t stay in jail until his trial comes off.”
“I’d like t’ know why? Ain’t nobody goin’ his bail.”
“You are?” and the constable sneered. “I’d like t’ know where ye got two thousand dollars t’ go on anybody’s bail. Ye ain’t worth more’n two hundred dollars.”
“I must require good security,” hastily interposed Justice Perkfell. “Very good security.”
“And I can furnish it!” exclaimed the veteran, standing close beside Dan, as though he would protect the boy. “I will go on this boy’s bond for a thousand—yes, for ten thousand dollars, for I know he is innocent!”
“Talk’s cheap, but it takes money t’ go on bail bonds,” came from Constable Walker. “Everybody knows ye ain’t got no ten thousand dollars, Mr. Harrison.”
“Then everybody is mistaken,” replied the sturdy old blacksmith with a smile. “I was not worth ten thousand dollars a few days ago, but I am now. Justice Perkfell, I’ll ask you to look at those papers,” and he handed the Squire a bundle of documents.
The old justice adjusted his glasses and began to examine the documents, while the crowd waited impatiently.
“Does that show whether I can qualify in the sum of two thousand dollars and go on Dan’s bond?” asked the veteran.
“Ahem! I—er—must admit it does,” replied the Squire. “I must, under the law accept you as bondsman for the prisoner, if you desire to take that responsibility.”
“I certainly do.”
“I may add, for the information of those present,” went on the justice, who was not going to miss a chance to make a speech, “that the papers I have examined show that Mr. Harrison has been left considerable property, including some real estate, which is necessary for a bondsman to have. This property, it appears, comes from a distant relative, and I should say, from the statement of the lawyers, that it was worth at least ten thousand dollars.”
“Fully that,” replied the blacksmith quietly. “It was an unexpected legacy for me, and I never was more surprised in my life than when I got it. It came from a distant cousin, all of whose relatives, save myself, had died. I am glad it came when it did, for it enables me to do my friend Dan a service.”
The bond was soon made out and the blacksmith signed it.
“Now, Dan,” he said, “you are at liberty. I hope you’ll not run away, since I have gone on your bond.”
“Indeed I will not, Mr. Harrison. I’m going to stay right around here, and see if I can’t discover the burglars. May I go now?” he asked of the justice.
“Yes. You are now under bail for the Grand Jury’s action. They may indict you, and they may not.”
“Then he ain’t got t’ go t’ jail?” asked Peter Savage, and he seemed a little disappointed.
“No,” replied Squire Perkfell.
“Then ye’d better come back t’ th’ farm with me, Dan,” exclaimed his employer. “Ye’ve lost enough time as ’tis. It’s past dinner time, an’ there’s lots of chores t’ be done. Come along, step lively!”
Dan made a sudden resolution.
“Mr. Savage, I’m not going back to the farm with you!” he said.
“What’s that?”
“I say I’m not going back to the farm. I’m done working for you. Besides, I don’t see why you should want in your house a boy whom you consider a thief. I’m done with you forever!”
If a bomb had been exploded under the feet of Mr. Peter Savage, he could not have been more surprised.