CHAPTER XIX
THE FALLING CHIMNEY
FOR a moment Dan did not know what to do. He was too surprised to speak, and, though he had been caught, almost like a burglar, he knew he morally had the right to do what he had done.
“So it was you, makin’ th’ noise that woke us up, was it, Dan Hardy?” asked Mr. Savage, advancing into the room. “Ye’re goin’ t’ th’ bad fast. Now ye’ll have t’ deliver up whatever ye stole from my house, an’ then I’ll send fer th’ constables.”
“I haven’t stolen anything from your house, Mr. Savage!”
“Then what did ye come sneakin’ in here fer, like a thief in th’ night?”
“I came after my books, which you refused to let me have. Now that I have them I am going to leave.”
“Ye be, eh? Wa’al, I guess I’ll have suthin’ t’ say about that. Likely story! Come here t’ git a few wuthless books! More like ye come here t’ git th’ money ye heard I drawed out th’ bank!”
“I didn’t know you drew any money out of the bank.”
“Ye’re a thief, Dan Hardy, an’ ye know it!” exclaimed Mrs. Savage. “Catch him, Peter. I’ll hold him while ye’ go over t’ Mr. Lane’s an’ telephone fer th’ constables.”
“I tell you I only came here for my books, and you have no right to molest me,” declared Dan.
“We’ll see how much of that th’ judge will believe,” sneered Mr. Savage. “Ye’d better come along with me, an’ make no trouble.”
“I’ll not come with you.”
Dan formed a sudden resolution. With a quick motion he threw his books from the window. Then he turned and made for it himself. It did not take long to get out on the limb, and, a few seconds later he was climbing down to the ground.
“Catch him! Stop him! Hold him!” cried Mrs. Savage. “Why don’t ye hold him, Peter?”
“Hold him, Susan? Might as well try t’ hold an eel after it’s got away from ye. Can’t ye see he’s gone?”
“Thieves! Robbers!” cried the woman. “Dan Hardy tried to rob th’ house!”
Her cries awakened the hired men, but, by the time they had slipped on their trousers and come out, Dan was far away. He had grabbed up his books and run across the fields to the road. Then he walked to Mr. Harrison’s house.
“Well, I got my books,” said the boy as he undressed and went to bed, “but I suppose there’ll be a row over it.”
The blacksmith came back early the next day, and Dan told him all about it.
“I am a little sorry you did that,” said Mr. Harrison, “yet I don’t know as I blame you. Mr. Savage was a mean man to retain the books, and, though you were not proceeding strictly according to law, you were morally in the right. I think whatever violation of law there was, is so slight that it need cause you no worry. Still I will go and see Squire Perkfell, as Mr. Savage will probably try to have a warrant issued for your arrest.”
Nor was the old soldier mistaken in his surmise. When he got to the Squire’s office he found the angry farmer there.
“Ah, good morning,” remarked the Justice pleasantly, when he saw the blacksmith. It was quite a different greeting than the one he had given when Mr. Harrison wanted to represent Dan at the trial. But then matters were different now. Mr. Harrison was quite wealthy, according to the Hayden standard, and the justice thought perhaps he might be given some legal work to do for the rich blacksmith.
“Good morning,” returned Mr. Harrison. “I came in to see you about a certain matter, when you have finished with Mr. Savage.”
“Wa’al, my business has got t’ be attended to, an’ I don’t care who knows it,” said the farmer. “I want a warrant fer th’ arrest of that Hardy boy.”
“Then my business is the same as yours,” said the blacksmith. “We will discuss it together.”
“No, we won’t discuss nothin’. I want him arrested, that’s all.”
“Yes, yes. Of course,” said the Squire. “Certainly. I will attend to it. Now what do you charge him with Mr. Savage?”
The truth was Squire Perkfell was between two fires. He wanted to please the blacksmith, because he knew he had money, and he wanted to keep on friendly terms with Mr. Savage, who was also wealthy and a power in the community, and who was to be reckoned with on election day.
“I charge him with bein’ a burglar, an’ with comin’ inter my house at midnight t’ rob an’ steal,” declared Mr. Savage.
“Perhaps we can simplify matters” interposed Mr. Harrison. “Did he break into your house, Mr. Savage?”
“No, he come in a winder that was left open.”
“Then I think I am right, Squire, in saying there can be no charge of breaking entered against Dan.”
“No, no. You’re right. If he didn’t break any doors or windows to get in, he can’t be charged with breaking,” agreed the Justice. “To arrest a burglar, charged with breaking, entering and stealing, he must be guilty of all three things.”
“So, then, Dan broke nothing,” resumed the blacksmith. “Did he steal anything, Mr. Savage?”
“He took some books.”
“Whose were they?”
“Wa’al, his own, I s’pose, but I was holdin’ em.”
“Which you had no legal right to do. Then Dan did not steal anything.”
“Guess you’re right,” agreed the Justice. “You can’t properly charge him with stealing, Mr. Savage.”
“Wa’al, he entered, didn’t he?” asked the farmer, satisfied that he could have Dan arrested on this charge.
“He entered, through a window, which was not fastened, and took property that belonged to him, which you unlawfully retained,” said Mr. Harrison. “I admit there might have been a technical violation of the law on Dan’s part, but there was also a violation on the part of Mr. Savage. If he insists on having a warrant for Dan on the charge of entering, I shall ask for one, on Dan’s behalf, for the arrest of Mr. Savage.”
“On what charge?” asked the Justice nervously, for he did not want to have to arrest such an influential and rich man as Mr. Savage.
“On the charge of unlawfully converting to his own use the property of another,” answered the blacksmith. “Now you can take your choice, Mr. Savage. Either drop this silly charge, or I will make one against you.”
“I—I think Mr. Harrison is right,” said Squire Perkfell, nervously rubbing his hands together.
“Humph! I’ll git even with him, an’ Dan too,” growled the farmer as he left the office of the Justice. He had decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and he was not sure but that he had acted unlawfully, as indeed he had, in keeping Dan’s books.
“Well, it’s all settled,” said the blacksmith to Dan, when he came back home. “Now you can rest easy.”
“No, not exactly,” answered Dan. “I have still to find the rascals who robbed the doctor’s house.”
“Perhaps we may in time. Don’t worry.”
But Dan did, though it did no good. The weeks passed, and there was no clue to those who had burglarized the doctor’s house. Of course Dan had, with the aid of Mr. Harrison, made a search in the woods, where he had seen the mysterious men, but nothing was found. Either it was well hidden, or the robbers, if such they were, had taken their booty away again.
The summer began to wane. Mr. Harrison had not yet found a purchaser for his smithy, and he continued to work there, as the machine shop he had started to build was not ready for operations. It might seem queer for a man with ten thousand dollars to be working at the forge, like a common blacksmith, but Mr. Harrison liked the exercise, and he knew if he stopped, the people in the neighborhood would have to go a long distance to get any work of that nature done. Besides he had some special machinery to put in his new shop, and part of it he could build better himself than he could hire done.
So he and Dan continued to live together, working in the smithy from day to day. The boy was acquiring valuable information, and he had plenty of time to study.
One day, Dan and his friend were working on a large iron frame that needed welding. It was so large that Mr. Harrison had to stand inside it, while it rested on the anvil. Dan stood in front to steady it.
It had just been taken from the fire, where one part was heated white hot, for welding, and Mr. Harrison was raining blows on it with a small sledge hammer when Dan, looking up, uttered an exclamation of fear.
The big brick chimney, in which the forge was constructed was cracking, for it was quite old. As Dan watched he saw it start to topple over, right on Mr. Harrison, who could not get out of the way because he was inside the frame, which was like a big cage.
“Look out!” cried Dan. “The chimney is falling!”
Nearer and nearer to Mr. Harrison, who was trying in vain to extricate himself from the framework, came the heavy mass of bricks and mortar. He was in danger of being crushed to death.
Then Dan did a risky thing. Dropping his end of the frame he ran around in behind the anvil, and, exerting all his strength, he raised the mass of iron rods, holding the frame up so Mr. Harrison could crawl to one side.
“Quick! Come out!” cried the boy.
The blacksmith saw his opportunity and made a rapid move to safety. Then Dan leaped out of the way, and not an instant too soon, for, a second later the bricks toppled down, burying the anvil and frame out of sight.
“QUICK—COME OUT!” CRIED THE BOY.—