BEFORE THE SQUIRE
Timothy Perkfell was a justice of the peace in Hayden. He was called
Squire by nearly every one. The title meant a good deal to Mr.
Perkfell, and he would have felt insulted had any one omitted it when
speaking to him. That is unless he was called “Judge,” which he liked
better than “Squire.”
The Squire’s office was in a small room back of Hank Lee’s grocery
store, and could be entered from there. It was a good sized room, for
occasionally, trials for minor offences were held there. There were
a number of chairs, a big stove, a picture of General Washington and
another of the Governor on the wall. The Squire usually sat at a big
desk, behind a row of law books.
It needed but a glance to tell that the volumes were law books, because
they looked so uninteresting. They were bound in leather, and, on the
backs, were such titles as “Hampersmith on Contracts,” “Vroom XLIV,”
“Corbin’s Forms,” etc. The books were always very dusty, which would
seem to indicate that they were seldom used, and this was the case, for
Squire Perkfell knew very little about law, and certainly not enough to
understand the contents of the big books.
Still it made a good impression to have them on his desk, and whenever
he was in doubt how to decide a case he would take up one of the
volumes, dust it carefully, pretend to hunt through it for a decision,
and then say something like this:
“Ahem! I have listened to the learned counsel on both sides, and, on
consulting Blackstone in the celebrated case of Nottingham versus
Snagdeck, I find that there is very much similar in this action.
Blackstone expressed my ideas fully. I therefore find--” and he would
announce his decision.
The Squire was rather an elderly man, with white hair, a white beard,
somewhat stained by tobacco juice, and he had a glass eye. Perhaps that
is why he did not oftener read his law books. He was quite dignified,
or, at least, he used to think he was, which amounts to almost the same
thing.
It was before this man that poor Dan was to be given a preliminary
hearing, on the charge of being a burglar. As the Squire had no
authority to sit as a magistrate he could not finally dispose of the
case. The two constables hurried to the office and found him sitting at
his desk.
“Good mornin’, Squire,” greeted Mr. Walker.
“Ah, good morning, my good man,” replied the Squire in rather chilling
tones.
“How-d’ do, Judge Perkfell,” greeted Constable Wolff, who saw the
somewhat cold welcome his companion received.
“Ah, officer, good morning. It’s a fine day,” returned Judge Perkfell,
pleased at having his title conferred on him thus early. “What can I do
for you? Do you wish a warrant, or a subpoena?”
“Neither, thanks,” replied Mr. Wolff, rubbing his hands at this
indication of being on good terms with the Squire. Mr. Walker felt a
little hurt, and resolved, after this, to always address the justice as
“Judge.”
“Perhaps then, you want me to draw up a deed, or a mortgage or some
legal paper.”
“No, Judge, but we would like you to hold court.”
“Hold court? Why, you don’t mean to tell me there is a prisoner in
Hayden? I did not hear of it.”
The Judge, who had only a little while before entered his office, had
not seen the commotion when Dan was brought through the town.
“Yes, sir--I mean Judge,” went on Constable Wolff. “I’ve got a
desperate prisoner in the jail.”
“You mean we’ve got him,” interrupted Constable Walker. “I helped catch
him jest th’ same as you.”
“So ye did, but I discovered the clues.”
“Never mind, officers,” spoke the Judge sharply, as he did not think it
dignified to have a dispute in his office. “Who is the prisoner?”
“A burglar!” exclaimed Constable Wolff.
“Dan Hardy!” answered Constable Walker in the same breath.
“You don’t mean to tell me Dan Hardy has been arrested as a burglar?”
said the justice, as much surprised as he thought it consistent with
his dignity to be.
“Yep, Squire--I mean Your Honor,” answered Mr. Wolff. “I catched--I
mean we catched him this mornin’. He robbed Dr. Maxwell’s house last
night, an’ we discovered part of th’ evidence on him,” and he showed
the spoon he had found in Dan’s pocket. “Now we want you, if you will,
t’ hold court, an’ properly commit him t’ jail, until th’ Grand Jury
can sit on his case.”
“Wait a minute!” exclaimed the Squire. “I am the person to judge what
is to be done in this case, not the officer who makes the arrest. It
may be that I will find it unnecessary to commit him for the action of
the Grand Inquest. I shall judge of that when I hear the evidence.”
“But he’s guilty, Mr. Perk--I mean Judge,” said Mr. Walker quickly.
“Silence!” cried the Squire, offended at the slip Mr. Walker had made.
“I am the proper person to decide that. You may bring the prisoner
before me in half an hour. Meanwhile I will look up certain points of
law, and I do not wish to be disturbed. Now clear the court,” and the
justice spoke as if there was a crowd of persons before him.
The truth was he wanted to be alone, to look up some authority in
the matter and see if he had a right to hold court in the case of a
burglar. He had never done so before.
It did not take Squire Perkfell long to determine that he had authority
to act in the case of a person charged with robbery, and then he waited
for the officers to bring Dan in.
Meanwhile the two constables went to the jail, and got their prisoner.
“What are you going to do with me now?” asked Dan, curiously.
“Ye’re goin’ t’ be tried,” said Mr. Wolff.
“Will Mr. Savage be there? I think I have a right to have his
testimony,” declared Dan, who, from having read of trials knew a little
about law.
“I s’pose he’ll be there,” replied Jacob Wolff. “Mebby ye won’t be so
glad t’ see him, after he tells what he knows. Hank Lee is goin’ t’
testify too.”
“What does he know about me?”
“Better wait, an’ see.”
“I am entitled to some rights in this matter,” went on Dan. “I should
be represented by a lawyer.”
“There ain’t none in town now,” said Mr. Walker. “John Burge has
gone t’ Canestota, and Ed Lancing is over t’ his mother’s. But Judge
Perkfell will know what t’ do.”
“I am entitled to a representative in court,” insisted Dan, “and if I
can’t have a lawyer I wish you would send for Mr. Harrison.”
“What, that blacksmith? He don’t know no law,” objected Jacob Wolff.
“Maybe not, but he is my friend, and he told me to let him know when I
was in trouble, and I’m in trouble now.”
“Wa’al, I’ll tell him,” said Mr. Walker, not very kindly, for he did
not want to lose anything of what was to take place. “I’ll tell him t’
come t’ Squire Perkfell’s court. Jake, d’ ye think ye kin manage him?”
and he nodded at Dan.
“Oh, don’t be afraid, I’m not going to escape,” said the boy,
understanding what was meant.
“I guess ye’d better not,” spoke Mr. Wolff fiercely taking a better
grip on Dan’s coat sleeve.
While one constable went, rather reluctantly, to summon the veteran
blacksmith, the other led Dan toward Hank Lee’s store, a crowd of
persons gathering as soon as they emerged from the town hall.
“Where are we going?” asked Dan.
“Through th’ store, t’ th’ Judge’s office,” replied Mr. Wolff. “Th’
Judge, he’s lookin’ up th’ law, an’ he don’t want t’ be disturbed fer
half an hour. We’ll wait in Hank’s store.”
“I had rather wait in jail,” spoke Dan, who felt he would be subjected
to ridicule and abuse in the grocery, with its crowd of men and boys.
“Mebby so, but ye can’t do as ye like when ye’re under arrest.”
He led the boy into the store. Though it was quite early there was
a big throng in it, for the rumor had spread that Dan was to have a
preliminary hearing, and all wanted to be present. They knew they could
go through the store into the Squire’s office.
“Clear th’ way fer th’ representative of th’ law!” exclaimed Jacob
Wolff, as he led Dan in.
“Jake’s in his glory now,” said one man.
“That’s right,” added another. “He’d rather be where he is than
President of th’ United States, I guess.”
Dan was led to a chair, near the door which opened into the Squire’s
office. The half hour was not quite up, and Mr. Wolff knew better than
to go in before it was time.
“So you got him, did you?” asked Hank Lee, coming over and standing
before the constable and his prisoner. “I always knowed he was bad. He
played a mean trick on me one day, and I reckon I’ve got even with him
now. I’ll get some reward, won’t I, for telling you he was the robber?”
“Mebby so,” answered Mr. Wolff. He would have preferred Mr. Lee should
say nothing about his information, as, if he did, it might take away
from the glory coming to the two officers.
“Did you give the constables information that led to my false arrest?”
asked Dan indignantly, of Hank Lee.
“Yes, I did, and I’m glad they got you. Now I’m even with you for
setting that bull after me. I told you I’d fix you.”
“I didn’t set the bull after you, Mr. Lee, and it wasn’t my fault that
you were frightened by it.”
“I wasn’t frightened, I tell you! I jest ran because I was afraid he
might hit me, and knock the money out of my pocket. I got up in the
tree so’s I could count it and see if it was right.”
At this version of the story, so different from the truth Dan could not
help smiling. It was evident that Mr. Lee had told no one exactly what
had happened, or how he had begged Dan not to desert him, to go for
help.
“Oh, you’re laughing now,” sneered the storekeeper, as he saw the smile
on Dan’s face, “but you’ll be sorry enough when you’re behind the bars.
I always knowed you’d come to no good end. It runs in the family.”
“See here!” exclaimed Dan, springing to his feet. “You can insult me,
if you will, because you are bigger and stronger than I am, but you
shan’t insult the memory of my father and mother! I come of as good
family as you do, and you know it. You gave false information about me,
because you have a grudge against me. I don’t know what it was, but it
wasn’t true, and I’ll prove it.”
Dan’s righteous anger seemed to get the best of him, and he struggled
to get loose from the restraining hold of Constable Wolff. He had no
idea what he wanted to do, except he felt as if he would like to strike
the mean storekeeper.
“Here! Hold on!” cried the officer, roughly dragging Dan back. “None of
that! You’re a prisoner!”
“Yes, you’re a felon!” added Mr. Lee with a sneer.
“I’d rather be an innocent prisoner than a coward!” cried Dan,
remembering how the storekeeper whined when the bull had him up a tree.
“Who’s a coward?”
“You are. You were afraid to stay up the tree alone when I wanted to go
after help to catch the bull.”
“What’s that?” asked Sam Porter, one of the men in the store. “I didn’t
hear the story that way. Tell us about it, Dan.”
Hardly knowing why he did so, Dan related the story, showing the
cowardice of the storekeeper.
“Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho!” laughed Sam. “That’s a good one on you, Lee. Treed by
a bull, and dasn’t stick your foot down! Ha! Ho! That’s prutty good!”
The rest of the crowd joined in the laugh at the discomfited Mr. Lee,
who angrily retired to his private office to make out bills. Dan had
gotten the best of him, and, somehow the sympathy of the crowd, which
had been rather against the boy, now turned his way.
Suddenly the door leading to the office of the Squire opened, and Mr.
Perkfell announced:
“Let the prisoner enter. I will now hold court.”
There was a scramble on the part of the crowd to get good seats, and
Constable Wolff led Dan in. As the boy was arraigned before the Squire,
Constable Walker came in, followed by Mr. Harrison. Dan’s heart leaped,
and his courage came back as he saw his sturdy friend, the village
blacksmith.
“We will now proceed with the hearing,” announced the justice. “Order
in the court!”
[Illustration: “LET THE PRISONER STAND UP,” SAID THE JUSTICE.--_Page
115._]