Andy stopped running at the loud alarm from the automobile. Several
persons started to block his course and one man caught him by the coat
sleeve. Andy recognized his pursuer at once. It was Seth Talbot.
The Princeville garage owner ran his car up to the curb and jumped out.
His face was red with exertion and excitement, and he grasped Andy
roughly by the arm.
"What's the trouble?" queried the man who had detained Andy.
"Escaped criminal--firebug," mumbled Talbot. "In with you," and he forced
Andy into the machine. "Hey, officer, take charge of this prisoner."
Talbot hailed a man in uniform pressing his way through the gathering
crowd.
"What is he charged with?" inquired the officer.
"Burning a barn at Princeville. Get him to the station and I'll explain
to your chief."
There was no chance for Andy to expostulate or struggle. The officer
held him tightly by one wrist, while Talbot whisked them away till they
reached a police station.
Here the garage owner drew the officer in charge to one side. They held
a brief consultation. Andy caught a word here and there. It was
sufficient to apprise him of the fact that there was a reward offered
for his arrest, and Talbot was agreeing to divide it with the officer if
he would take charge of Andy till he was delivered over to the
authorities at Princeville.
"You are in charge of the law now, young man," said the officer, leading
Andy back to the automobile. "I won't shackle you, but don't try any
tricks."
He and Andy occupied the rear seat in the automobile, while Talbot drove
the machine.
"May I say something to you?" inquired Andy of the officer.
"About what?" asked the officer.
"My being arrested this way. I don't see what right Mr. Talbot has to
chase me and give orders about me like some condemned felon. I haven't
seen any warrant for my arrest."
"You'll see it soon enough. Meanwhile don't say anything to incriminate
yourself," returned the officer, glibly using the pet phrase of his
calling.
"I've done nothing to be incriminated," declared Andy indignantly. "What
I wanted to ask was the simple favor of getting word to some people here
in Greenville, who have sent me on an errand, and will be put out and
disappointed if I don't show up."
"What people?" quizzed Talbot, overhearing Andy and half turning around
in his seat.
"A firm of lawyers here----" began Andy.
"Yah!" derided the garage owner. "Guessed it was something of that sort.
Want to tangle up this affair with some legal quibble! Officer, you just
hold on to him tight. He's a slippery fellow."
Andy saw that it would be useless to appeal to either of his companions
in the automobile, and put in his time doing some pretty serious
thinking as the machine sped over the landscape.
"This is a bad fix at a bad time," reflected Andy. "The lawyer will
expect me back as I promised, and think all kinds of things about me
because I don't come. And there's Mr. Parks. And the race. I mustn't
miss that! But then, I am arrested. They'll lock me up. Suppose they
really prove I fired that barn?" Andy's heart beat painfully with dread
and suspense.
The town hall at Princeville was reached. Andy had been in the main
offices of the structure many times, but this was his first visit to the
lower floor of the building where the prisoners were kept. He only
casually knew the deputy sheriff in charge of the barred cage, and who
looked Andy over as he would any criminal brought to him to lock up.
"This is Andy Nelson--Jones' barn--ran away--reward." Andy was somewhat
chilled as the deputy nodded and proceeded to enter his name in a big
book before him on the desk.
"Search him," said the official to the turnkey.
"Hello!" ejaculated Talbot, as Andy's watch was brought into view, and
"hello!" he repeated with eyes goggling still more, as Andy's pocketbook
came to light, and outside of some small bills and silver, a
neatly-folded bill was produced.
The officer himself looked surprised at this. Andy, however, did not
tell them that this represented the prize he had won at the aviation
meet, treasured proudly in its entirety.
"Wonder if that's some of the money I've found short in my business?"
insinuated Talbot.
"If there is any shortage in your receipts," retorted Andy indignantly,
"you had better ask your son about it."
The shot told. The garage owner flushed up.
"What's that?" he covered his evident confusion by asking, as the
officer unfolded a slip of printed paper.
It was the advertisement about the lost leather pocketbook, that Andy
had preserved. Glancing over the shoulder of the officer and taking in
its purport, Talbot gave a start. Then he eyed Andy in an eager,
speculative way, but was silent.
"What are you going to do with me?" Andy asked of the officer.
"Lock you up, of course."
"Won't I be allowed to send word to my friends?"
"Who are they?" demanded the officer.
"I think Mr. Dawson, the banker, is one of them," replied Andy.
"Mr. Dawson has been away from town for a week, and will not return for
two."
Andy's face fell. The thought of the banker had come to him hopefully.
"Can I telegraph, then?" he asked, "to friends out of town?"
"Telegraph," sneered Talbot. "My great pumpkins, with your new suit of
clothes and watch and one hundred dollar bills and telegrams!"
"I can grant you no favors before I have notified the prosecuting
attorney of your arrest," said the deputy. "Lock him up, turnkey."
All this seemed very harsh and ominous to Andy, but he did not allow it
to depress him. He followed the turnkey without another word. The latter
unlocked a great barred door, and Andy felt a trifle chilled as it
reclosed on him and he was a prisoner.
"How do you do, Mr. Chase?" he said, as he recognized the lockup-keeper,
an old grizzled man, who limped towards him.
"Got you, did they?" spoke the man. "Sorry, Andy."
"Yes, I am sorry, too, just at this time. Of course you know, I'm not
the kind of a fellow to burn down a man's barn."
"Know it--guess I know. I can prove----" began Chase, so excitedly, that
Andy stared at him in some wonder. "See here," continued Chase,
controlling himself, "I've got something to say to you later on. Just
for the present, you count on me as your friend. I'll see you get the
best going in this dismal place."
"Thank you, Mr. Chase," said Andy.
"You needn't sleep in any cell. I'll let you have a cot in my room,"
continued Chase with earnestness and emotion. "Andy----" and there the
speaker choked up, and he grasped Andy's hand, and turning away trembled
all over. "You're a blessed good boy, and you've got a true friend in
me, and remember what I tell you--they will never find you guilty of
burning down Jones' barn."
Andy returned the pressure of the hand of the man whom he was meeting
under peculiar circumstances, feeling sure that his avowed friendship
was genuine. He had good reason to believe this.
When Andy had come to Princeville, Chase was a worthless drunkard, who
worked rarely and who was in the lockup most of the time. One winter's
night, as Andy was returning from taking a customer to the lake, he
lined a swampy stretch and noticed a huddled-up figure lying at its
half-frozen edge.
Andy got out of the automobile and discovered a man, his body and
clothes half frozen down into the reeds and grass. It was Chase, sodden
with drink and fast perishing.
Andy managed to get the poor fellow in the tonneau and drove home. It
was late, and Talbot had left the garage for the night. Andy dragged his
helpless guest into his little den of a room and hurried for a doctor.
He was a favorite with the physician, for whom he had done many little
favors, and the latter worked over the half-frozen Chase for nearly two
hours. He refused to think of taking any pay, and at Andy's request
promised to say nothing about the incident.
Andy kept his little oil stove going all night and plied the patient
with warm drinks. When morning came Chase was awake and sober, but he
was so weak and full of pain he could hardly move.
All that day and into the next Andy managed to house and care for Chase
without detection. Talbot finally discovered the intruder, however. He
stormed fearfully. He was for at once sending for an officer and having
Chase sent to jail or the workhouse.
Andy pleaded hard for the poor refugee. Talbot declared that his wet
garments had spoiled the automobile cushions. Andy got Chase to agree
that he would work this out when he got well, and Talbot was partly
mollified.
When Chase got about he did some drudgery at Talbot's home. Then one day
he came to tell Andy that Talbot had got him a position. Chase was well
acquainted with prison ways. Talbot had quite some political influence,
and the forlorn old wreck was installed as lockup-keeper at the town
jail.
Once a week regularly he came to visit Andy at the garage. It was
usually Saturday nights, after the others had gone home. Chase would
bring along some dainty for Andy to cook, and they would have quite a
congenial time. During all this time Chase never touched a drop of
liquor. He told Andy he had received the lesson of his life, leaving him
crippled in one limb, and that he would show Andy his gratitude for his
rescue by keeping the pledge.
"Mr. Chase," now said Andy, "there is something you can do for me, if
you will."
"Speak it out, Andy," responded the lockup keeper eagerly.
"I want to send a telegram to a friend right away. They have taken all
my money from me, but the message can go collect."
Chase hobbled down the corridor rapidly to return with paper and pencil.
"Write out your message, Andy," he said. "I'll see that it goes without
delay."
Andy wrote out a telegram to John Parks. It ran:
"Under arrest on a false charge. I want to see you on important
business."
Chase took the message, put on his hat, and going to the barred door
tapped on it.
The turnkey appeared and unlocked the door. As Chase passed out, Andy
observed that someone passed into the cell room. It was Seth Talbot.
"I want a little talk with you, Andy Nelson," spoke the garage owner,
"and it will pay you to listen to what I have to say."