TWO YOUNG CORPORALS SEND OUT THE "C. Q. D."
When the two young corporals had had time to cool down somewhat, Hal
made a racket on his cell door until a house policeman came to see what
was wanted.
"Will you bring me paper and an envelope?" Hal asked.
"Want to make your will, I suppose," jeered the policeman.
"No; I intend to write a note to my company commander."
"Is he out at camp?"
"Yes."
"Who do you think is going to take the note out there?"
"Call a messenger boy, and I will pay him for going out there,"
Corporal Hal replied.
"I don't believe the lieutenant at the desk will do it," returned the
policeman.
"See here," Hal went on, warming up perceptibly, "we are members of the
United States forces, under detention by the civil authorities. Now,
the civil authorities have full right to arrest United States soldiers
on proper charges. We'll let the question pass of whether we've been
properly arrested. But, as members of the United States Army, we have
a right to communicate with our commanding officer. If this isn't done,
the governor of Colorado is quite likely to hear from Washington. Now,
we demand paper and envelope, and also that a messenger boy be called
to take our letter."
"I don't know what the lieutenant will say----" began the house
policeman dubiously.
"Of course you don't," Hal broke in. "So go and find out what he says,
won't you? And you might explain to him my version of what is likely
to happen if he fails to give us a chance to communicate promptly with
Captain Cortland."
Twenty minutes passed.
"They're just laughing at us," muttered Noll.
"Then in the morning they may find where the laugh really belongs," Hal
retorted.
"Hush! Here comes some one."
It was the house policeman, returning with stationery and a messenger
boy.
Taking a pencil from one of his pockets, Hal wrote at some length,
though he tried to make his letter as brief as possible.
"Got any matches, boy?" Hal asked of the waiting messenger.
The boy passed a small box in through the grating of the door.
"Here, stop that!" warned the policeman, though he reached forward too
late to stop the passing of the matches.
"You shall have them back in a moment," Hal promised the boy.
Drawing a piece of sealing wax from another pocket, Hal lighted a
match, dropping the hot wax over the flap of the envelope.
"Here, you can't do that," warned the house policeman, who, however,
could get the cell door key only by going upstairs to the desk.
"But I've already done it," smiled Hal.
Noll handed his chum a signet ring, which Hal pressed into the wax.
"That won't go," muttered the policeman. "The lieutenant won't have it.
He has to see all letters that go out of this station."
"Then let your lieutenant break the seal, or interfere in any way with
the prompt delivery of an official communication between a member of
the United States Army and his commanding officer, and see what will
happen to your lieutenant upstairs. If the lieutenant is a friend of
yours you might call that little point to his attention," Hal retorted,
with a cool smile, as he passed the envelope to the messenger.
"How much will it be to deliver that letter promptly out at the camp?"
Corporal Overton inquired.
The messenger boy named the sum, to which Overton added carfare and a
little "tip."
"As quickly as you can, please, boy. And report to your manager in case
the lieutenant, or any other policeman attempts to hinder or bother
you on this work. We shall want your report as evidence if you are
interfered with."
"Say, that kid corporal downstairs knows all his rights," declared the
house policeman admiringly to the lieutenant, after the messenger had
departed unmolested.
"He'll forget a large part of what he knows, after he's been before
the judge in the morning," replied the lieutenant, lighting a cigar.
"Soldiers, as well as citizens, can be punished, and Johnson has a
clear case against that pair of soldier kids."
For the next two hours Hal and Noll took turns pacing back and forth
within the narrow confines of the cell in which they had been thrust.
"I guess we're not going to hear anything to-night," muttered Hal
disappointedly at last. "Noll, we may as well get some of the sleep
that's coming to us."
Young soldiers accustomed to sleeping on the ground did not find
it extremely hard to get to sleep on the hard wooden benches. More
than that, they contrived to get a pretty fair rest before they were
awakened in the morning by a station-house trusty who thrust two chunks
of bread and two tin cups of coffee into the cell.
"Get that down and be ready to go to court," called the trusty as he
passed along.
Breakfast eaten, the two young corporals had a lot more time on their
hands before a squad of policemen came downstairs and began to busy
themselves with marshaling the prisoners and driving them toward a
basement door.
Here, mingled with the scum of the city, in the persons of other
prisoners, two unoffending young soldiers of the United States Army
were forced to enter the dark interior of a covered wagon. A steel door
was slammed into place and locked and the ride began.
In a few minutes they were let out, superintended by a guard of other
policemen, and driven into another basement. Here, in a dark, dingy,
foul-smelling room, this batch of prisoners was herded with those from
other police stations.
A lot of time passed. Occasionally court policemen came into the room,
selected more prisoners and drove them out toward a stairway.
At last it came the turn of Corporals Hal and Noll. They were taken
from the room, up an iron staircase, and then pushed into the pen of a
police court.
"Henry Overton and Oliver Terry!" called a clerk.
"There's yer cue," announced a gruff court policeman, pointing to the
two young soldiers. He conducted them to the front of the pen where
they stood facing a police magistrate.
The clerk announced the charge against them, then ordered wearily:
"Prisoners, hold up your right hands. You do solemnly swear----"
The two young corporals had been duly sworn to tell the truth.
"Where's the arresting officer?" demanded Judge Guffey.
Policeman Johnson came forward, held up his hand and was sworn.
Then the policeman started to tell the story of what he claimed to
have seen. According to this evidence, Noll and Hal had first insulted
a young woman with whom Bill Dabner was walking at the time. Bill had
naturally resented the insults, and then the soldiers had violently
assaulted Bill and his male friend, while the girl broke through the
gathering crowd and fled for home.
Then Bill came forward, in his best, loudest clothes, and with his
hair much greased. Bill's story, under oath, put a few flourishes to
Policeman Johnson's plainer tale. Bill's friend was also there and
backed up all that the policeman and Dabner had said.
"We have plenty of other witnesses, your honor, if you desire to
examine more," interposed the policeman.
"Where's the young woman herself?" queried Judge Guffey.
"Home in bed, ill from the shock, your honor," Bill asserted gravely.
"Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say?" queried Judge Guffey.
"Overton?"
"I've a lot to say, your honor."
In tones ringing with indignation, Corporal Hal Overton, United States
Army, gave his version of the affair. Bill Dabner listened with a
broad, impudent grin, as Hal told the true story of the encounter of
the night before.
Then Noll spoke in his own behalf.
"I saw the assault myself, your honor, and have other witnesses here
for our side if you wish to hear them," said Policeman Johnson.
"This testimony is very much confused," commented Judge Guffey at last.
"But the evidence of the police officer is evidently worth that of
all the other witnesses combined, for the policeman has no personal
prejudices in the matter. Prisoners at the bar, you appear to have
forgotten that you were sworn into the Army and enrolled among the
defenders and protectors of the country. It is no light thing to insult
a young woman, even if she does happen to belong to the poorer classes
of society. Prisoners, such conduct as yours, under any circumstances,
is a disgrace to the splendid uniform that you wear. Soldier hoodlumism
shall find no more sanction in this court than any other kind of
rowdyism. I sentence you each, therefore----"
Judge Guffey's voice paused for a moment, as though the magistrate were
thinking deeply.
Then he added:
"----to thirty days in the workhouse!"