REWARDED
The procession that wound out of the gate, down the road, over the
railroad tracks, past the station, into and along the main street a
little way, then down the broad cross street to the mills was indeed
a queer one; naturally one to draw the attention of a crowd, if there
had been anyone on the street so early in the morning to see it.
Those who were up and about, who had not gone back to bed after the
explosion, had stayed at the mill to join in the well-paid-for work
of rehabilitation, or to stand around and discuss the crime.
When the slow-moving caravan arrived, after a toilsome trip with many
stops for rest, Clem having been the motive power all the way for
the squeaking, one-wheeled vehicle, the crowd at the mill paused to
observe and consider this rather startling performance. Christmas
night was one long to be remembered in Lofton.
“Hi! Here comes the circus, the elephant in the lead!” announced
Jimmy West, a wit among the mill hands, as he caught sight of the
outline of the approaching group. Shultz marched ahead; then came the
wheel-barrow and Clem; then Don, his revolver ever ready.
“Ah, what--what have you here? What does this mean, my son?” Mr.
Stapley queried.
“Fer goodness’ sake, hit’s Dutchy Shultz an’ another feller, thet
them there boys hez brung in!” remarked an ancient citizen.
“Dis vas von outrache, py gollies! I vill nod--”
“Shut up, Shultz, I told you, or you’ll get plugged yet!” Don
threatened. The crowd did not embarrass him.
“We think this is your dynamiter, Dad,” Clem stated, calmly. He had
had time to compose himself.
“Eh? What makes you think so?”
“Got a lot of reasons, Dad; a lot of evidence against this fellow.”
“So? But what’s the matter with him?”
“Donald shot him. He isn’t much hurt, I guess. But we don’t know. We
just brought them along.”
“Hey, Mr. Strang, here, evidently, is a job for you! And we’d better
have Doctor Richards here again.”
The town constable clambered out from among the wreckage of the
office building where he had been searching for clues and approached.
Amid the buzz of remarks and questions he paused long enough to
consider and then to become somewhat nettled at what appeared like
high-handed proceedings beyond his authority.
“What’s this? You kids make an arrest? Took a lot on yourselves, I’m
thinkin’. Eh? Shot this fellow? Hello! You Shultz? Huh! This looks
like pretty darned bold business to me. Put down that gun, young
fellow!” This to Don.
“You go and sit down will you? Maybe you think I’ve had no use for
this.” Don was still seeing red, but with all of his wits working.
“Mr. Stapley, you get busy on this; you’re most interested. This
gink,” indicating the constable, “couldn’t catch a mudturtle that had
robbed a hen roost in the middle of the day. There’s just one thing
to do: bring the watchman here.”
“Put up that gun, I tell you!” ordered Strang, starting toward Don.
“If you want to fill an early grave you get gay with me now!” Don
said, backing off around the crowd. Mr Stapley interposed.
“Put up your pistol, Donald. We’ll take care of this matter now.”
“But, Mr. Stapley, Shultz will get away! He and Strang are old
cronies. Many a jag Strang got in Shultz’s place when he had his
saloon; everybody knows that.” This caused a general laugh.
“Let him alone, Strang. Perhaps these boys have done us a big
service.”
“Well, if you think maybe we’ve got the wrong men, just get the
watchman here,” Don reiterated.
“Davis went home and to bed,” announced a bystander.
“Well, we can wake him; we’ll wheel these fellows over there and let
him see this one,” Don insisted.
Mr. Stapley issued several rapid orders; a big mill hand, grinning,
brought up the wheelbarrow and began trundling it and its human
freight down the street again. Two others, with a piece of stout
twine, noosed Shultz’s hands behind him and had him helpless in a
moment; then handed him over to Strang, who really would not have
dared to be false to his trust. Don, beneath a lamp and before
Strang, emptied the cartridges out of his revolver; then handed his
weapon to Clem, who also unloaded his gun, and the boys quickly
followed on to the watchman’s abode.
The ceremony there was as dramatic as could have been wished by the
most excitement-loving onlooker. Davis was brought down to the door
and he took a look at the two Germans under a bright light. He paused
long enough to make his assertion emphatic, pointing his finger and
appearing so sure that no one could have doubted him.
“I didn’t see Shultz an’ I would have knowed him, anyway; he ain’t no
stranger to nary one in this here town. But I did see that man! He’s
one o’ them that run from the office buildin’ acrosst the yard just
before the bomb went off. That feller an’ another one--a long, thin
cuss without any whiskers--they must ’a’ set their fuses too short
an’ was scared, because they skinned out awful quick. Then the thing
went off an’ the one near where I was a second later, an’ it fixed me
so’s I didn’t know nothin’.”
“You think that this man--” began Mr. Stapley, indicating the
wheelbarrow’s passenger who had said no word, but only sat hugging
his leg and looking very pale.
“Yes sir, Mr. Stapley, that there feller is one o’ the two men I
seen. I’m as sure of it as I am that the sun riz yest’day mornin’!
I’ll take a bunch of oaths on it ez big ez the mill prop’ty! Knowed
him soon’s I seen him.”
“Thank you, Davis. Go back to bed and I hope you’re better--”
A cheer, at first uncertain, then growing in volume and intent,
interrupted the mill president.
“Hurrah for the kids!” it began; then; “That’s the stuff!” “Sure they
turned the trick!” “Them kids is some fellers!” and: “Whoop ’em up!”
Both boys were caught up on the shoulders of the crowd and passing
Strang someone shouted:
“Say, Constable, you ain’t got a blamed thing t’ say, so shut up!”
“Ben, you and Phil get this fellow down to the mill hospital and stay
with him,” ordered Mr. Stapley. “The doctor will be here any minute.
Mr. Strang, hold on to Shultz; he was giving these men asylum and we
all know his sentiments. Better lock him up and we’ll work the legal
proceedings tomorrow. As for the boys, I won’t stand for any action
to be taken against them, unless the district attorney insists, and
I don’t believe he will. They may have exceeded their rights, but you
see the result. Good-night, Strang. Come on, men; we’ll go back to
work. You boys had better go home and get some sleep; you both need
it. We’ll talk the whole matter over tomorrow.”
But when the morrow came, a little late in the morning, the talk was
prefaced by a bit of news. A few hours before the bearded German had
eluded his jailors just long enough to swallow a dose of poison and
he had died in half a minute and almost without a tremor. Prussic
acid, Doctor Richards said, and added that the wound inflicted by
Don’s bullet was a mere flesh scratch in the leg and had only caused
a temporary paralysis, largely imaginary. In the darkness the boy had
aimed to hit the fellow just above the knee.
They were all at the Stapley mansion, most comfortably seated. The
president of the mills and the doctor were old friends, knowing
nothing of the long feud between the lads here in the town and at
Brighton, and now pleased that the boys had acted together.
“We want to know the whole story; just how it all happened and all
that you did; eh, Doc?” Mr. Stapley demanded.
Between them the boys managed to make a complete narrative, though
the latter part of it--the taking of the two Germans and the
shooting--Clem told, after much cross-questioning. Mr Stapley then
commented:
“It’s pretty easy to grasp the merits of this, Doc. My son’s part
has been anything but that which a proud father could be ashamed of
and I’m glad the boy has shown so much nerve and spunk. But it is
your son, Donald here, who has really carried the thing through.
That boy’s going to be a regular young Napoleon one of these days,
Doc, you may be sure! Better give his scrapping ability all the
development possible.”
“Oh, now, Mr. Stapley, I didn’t do any more than Clem did. He was
right there on the job. Why, he wheeled the wheelbarrow and he--”
“Oh, very good indeed! A rather hard task! But something of a
laborer’s job wasn’t it? You seem to have done--”
“‘Comparisons are odious,’ Stapley. There’s glory enough in this to
go round,” suggested the doctor.
“Sure, sure, but nevertheless we’ve got to discriminate when the
rewards are forthcoming. Our company is greatly indebted to these
boys and so is the country. That fellow might have gotten off and
have done a lot more damage, probably to us. Now we’ve got only one
rascal to hunt down. It is wonderful, I must say, very, for boys to
have carried this out as you did. Clem, you deserve high praise for
getting on to those fellows in the train. But now look here son, the
strategy of the actual capture and the nervy manner in which it was
carried out seems to have depended mostly upon Donald and I want you
to act with me in this matter. The company will reward this act with
five hundred dollars and, my boy, in this case I want it all to go
to Donald. You shall reap your reward otherwise; I’ll see to that in
various ways. Of course you’re willing?”
“I’m not willing!” spoke up Don and his father shook his head. Clem
gazed straight before him with a solemn, hurt expression.
“It must be as I wish,” Mr Stapley insisted. “We shall consent to no
other arrangement. Doc, I’ll send the check to you to bank for your
boy, and Donald, I want to thank you for your splendid action in this
affair.”