"You're just a kid and I don't like to see kids in trouble," the jailer
murmured sadly.
"How much trouble am I in?"
"You'll be kept until you can be brought before Justice Murphy. He'll
fine you five dollars and tell you to get out of town."
"Can't I see him now?"
"Justice Murphy," the jailer said, "has gone fishing. He won't be back
for a week."
"Then I'm to be your guest for a week?"
"It looks that way. Might as well get you checked in."
He took a pad of forms from the desk and balanced a pencil. In the
proper places he inscribed Jeff's name, age, the offense with which he
was charged, and other pertinent data. He looked closely at what he had
written, and from the dark cells in back came a shouted, "Hey, Pop!
Who's the new tenant?"
"Shut up, Ike."
"Aw, bring him back, Pop. Bucky and me'd like to meet him."
"You two be quiet," Pop reprimanded the prisoner. Then he addressed
Jeff. "Ike Wilson and Bucky Edwards--they finally got caught."
"What for?"
"Stealing chickens."
Jeff looked unbelieving and the jailer's face became less gentle. For a
moment he was almost stern.
"That's serious. It isn't a light matter."
"I know."
"Then why did you look so doubtful?"
"It seems a few chickens are hardly worth a jail sentence."
"They're not, and neither is anything else, but some people never learn
that. It just happens those boys weren't satisfied with one chicken.
They got three thousand that anybody knows about."
"Whew!"
"They'll pay for it. Now, Jeff, I'll have to take your dog."
Jeff sparred for time. He had known other people in similar
circumstances whose dog had been taken away, and half the time they'd
simply disappeared. That they'd sickened and died was the usual story,
but actually they'd been destroyed because it was too much trouble to
take care of them. Outwardly, Jeff affected an air of supreme
indifference.
"Sure," he agreed. "Go ahead. Just be careful. Pal doesn't like a lot of
people and he bites whoever he dislikes. Better be careful he gets his
regular feeding every day, too. That's four pounds of the best ground
steak. He hates everybody if he doesn't get it."
"Yeah?" Pop was not at all friendly now. "Suppose he gets sick?"
"If I don't get him back--and in as good a shape as when he was taken
away--I know a couple of good lawyers."
"Lawyers cost money."
"I have a certain amount of influence."
Pop rubbed his chin reflectively and stared at the window. "I suppose
you could keep him in your cell if you want to pay for his board."
"I might," Jeff said, knowing he had won this round and that his chance
shot had hit the bull's-eye. Obviously, for reasons of his own, Pop did
not care to have any lawyers investigating anything. "How good a cell?"
Pop was all brittle now. "If you've been in other cells, you know how
good. How old are you?"
"Old enough to land in jail. That tie you're wearing, Pop. It hardly
befits the dignity of your position and--"
"I told you not to try to sell anything to me! Maybe, just maybe, we can
think up some other charge."
"We'd buy if we had any money!" the man in the back cell yelled. "What's
your name, peddler?"
"Jeff Tarrant, representing Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd. The most quality
for the most discriminating people."
"What's that dis-dingus mean?"
"It means shut up!" Pop snarled. "You're a smart one, huh?"
Jeff said meekly, "All I know is black from white. I take my pack in the
cell too, don't I?"
"No!"
"I know exactly what's in it," Jeff warned, "and I know just what to do
if even a penny's worth is missing. Maybe I know what to do if nothing's
missing."
"We can get tough, too."
"I want that pack."
"All right. Keep it and come on."
Pal stayed very close to Jeff as Pop led them toward the cells. The two
chicken thieves came to the front of theirs and clasped the bars with
their hands. They were wholly delighted because, in his brush with Jeff,
Pop had come off second best. Jeff grinned back at them.
"Hi, Jeff! Got anything to make our happy home happier?"
"Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., has something for everyone and can please
you. Here is a nice hack saw."
"I'll take that," Pop said.
"You'll take it for thirty-nine cents."
"Hand it over. You'll get it back when you leave."
"Well--" Jeff gave him the hack saw and the pair in the adjoining cell
roared with laughter.