  Lige could hardly believe his ears when the clerk of the jewelry establishment made this astonishing charge, eager to cover up his own carelessness at the time the robbery was committed and to shift the blame. He stood there and stared, first at the flushed face of the man and then at the tear-stained countenance of Benjy. The crowd jostled and pushed to see and hear, but for a wonder it remained voiceless. Perhaps surprise held the spectators spellbound; or it might be they recognized the fact that Lige Corbley as a rule could fight his own battles. The boy finally found his tongue, and turning toward his younger brother he exclaimed almost tenderly: “What does he mean by saying that, Benjy? How could you have that watch in your pocket, when I just left you here a few minutes ago? It can’t be so. He’s lying, to get us into trouble. It must be a set-up job! Tell me, did you ever see that watch before he held it up right now?” Benjy seemed to have regained his power of speech, also, for he immediately replied to this question by saying: “I felt somethin’ heavy in my jacket pocket, Lige,—this one it was,—and when I put my hand in, I pulled that watch out. But I don’t know however it came there, cross my heart if I do, Lige!” The older boy whirled on the clerk, his eyes snapping with anger. “There, do you hear what Benjy says, Mr. Garrison? He found your old watch in a pocket of his jacket, but if you say he knew anything about its being stolen or had anything to do with the thief, why, it isn’t so and you’re telling what’s a bare-faced lie. Benjy wouldn’t take a pin that wasn’t his own!” He again threw a protecting arm across the shoulder of the smaller lad, who looked up at him with a smile of confidence on his thin face that told of hope renewed. Many times had Lige stood between the weak little chap and trouble; and in the eyes of Benjy he was a tower of strength. With Lige at hand, the cripple could banish fear and feel sure of protection. The clerk, however, was not yet ready to give up. For some reason or other he seemed anxious to keep attention riveted in another quarter, so as to delay the investigation as long as possible. Perhaps he found his own conscience accusing him of lack of discretion in giving a stranger a chance to seize upon the most valuable contents of the establishment. “Whether the boy is guilty as a confederate or not,” he said, grimly, with compressed lips and a baleful gleam in his pale eyes, “the stolen goods having been found in his possession makes him a partner in the crime, after the act. Until this thing can be looked into more closely he ought to be held, and I call on the police to take him in charge on suspicion!” He beckoned to the big Chief as he said this. Lige turned white, and then a red spot glowed in either cheek. There were low murmurs of protest from a part of the crowd, as though this high-handed proceeding on the part of the indiscreet clerk struck them as going much too far. But not a hand was raised to bar the officer of the law from doing what was demanded of him. “Do you mean that you’re going to lock my brother up at police headquarters just because that runaway thief chose to drop a watch in his pocket as he was getting out of the crowd?” demanded Lige, staring angrily at the clerk. “That’s what ought to be done,” persisted the other stubbornly, looking defiantly around at those gathered there. “If he’s able to prove his innocence, no harm will be done.” “No harm!” echoed Lige. “Mebbe you’d like to have your boy arrested for somethin’ he never done and locked up for hours in the cooler, while they were chasin’ after the real thief? How do you think you’d feel to have everybody pointin’ at him and saying he’d been accused of stealing and the police had arrested him on suspicion? It’s a shame, that’s what. Why, Benjy never stole a cent in all his life! Have me taken up if you want to. I’ve done heaps of tough things, and everybody knows it. But don’t you dare put it on my brother, or——” Lige was growing more and more furious. There is no telling what sort of dire threat he might have made toward Mr. Garrison, only that just then he felt some one pluck him by the sleeve and heard Hugh Hardin saying: “Hold on, Lige. Don’t finish that sentence, will you? There’s no need of having Benjy arrested. It’s an outrage, and every one here will stand back of me when I say that, no matter what Mr. Garrison thinks. He’s excited now, and hardly knows what he’s doing. Besides, I want the Chief to understand that I saw just how that watch got in Benjy’s pocket!” A faint cheer broke from the triple circle of spectators. It could be plainly seen that all their sympathies lay with the white-faced little cripple. In Lige they had small confidence, but Benjy Corbley had long been an object of more or less consideration, for it was understood that his chances of ever living to grow up to manhood were comparatively zero. The clerk turned on Hugh. His manner changed more or less, because he realized that he had a different customer to handle in the young assistant scout master. Lige Corbley and Hugh Hardin were quite opposite in reputation. The one was as much respected as the other was looked upon with suspicion. Lige had been the cause of considerable excitement in the town, and was even then considered as responsible for the outrage at the mayor’s place of residence. “How could you see what was done, Hugh Hardin?” Mr. Garrison asked a little weakly, for he began to feel the ground slipping out from under his feet. “In this way,” returned Hugh promptly, with a quick look full of confidence toward Lige and Benjy. “I saw the man come leaping out of the store and push his way through the crowd. Nobody had the sense to lay a hand on him, but perhaps that was because all of us were so surprised that we didn’t understand what it was about until you came to the door and called ‘Thief!’ Benjy happened to be right in his way and the man ran full tilt against him; then, as if he chanced to see it was a little, almost helpless cripple, he threw out both hands to keep the boy from being knocked over. He was holding a lot of watches in one hand and a bag in the other; and I saw with my own eyes one of the watches drop into Benjy’s pocket,—that is, I saw it fall out of the thief’s hand, and it must have lodged there. “So you see, Chief, Benjy didn’t know anything about it until, as he says, he felt something heavy in his pocket, and when he pulled that gold watch out he just stood and stared at it till Mr. Garrison saw him. And of course you wouldn’t want to arrest a boy who was helping to recover the lost goods, would you, sir?” A general laugh went up at that. The baffled clerk saw that it would be only foolishness for him to persist in his charge after this manful defense of Benjy. “Oh, if that’s the case and you saw all that happened, Hugh, of course I withdraw my charge. But as you said, I’m so flustrated by this terrible event that I hardly know what I’m doing. So let it drop, Chief, and please get started after the thief. He is in a buggy, and surely you ought to overtake him with your swift auto. If the neighboring towns are notified, he would be apprehended should he try to pass through any of them. It is a serious business with my employer, because the best goods in the store were taken.” Lige gave the clerk a long, savage look, as though the incident had made such an indelible impression on his mind that it must haunt him for many a day. Some of those present followed the Chief as he hurried back to police headquarters. Others remained to listen to what was said by the clerk in answer to the numerous sharp questions put by the shocked owner of the establishment, who was engaged in shaking his head and walking nervously up and down, now and then wringing his hands and declaring that he would be ruined unless the thief were apprehended and the goods reclaimed. Hugh and Billy were about to walk away when Lige strode sullenly up to them. He looked straight into the eyes of the scout leader, and there was an expression on his dark face that probably no one had ever seen there before. Hugh understood. He realized that his simple little defense of Benjy had done more to reach the depths of this wild boy’s heart than anything that could possibly have happened. Had it been a favor done toward himself, Lige would doubtless have striven to pay it back and then wiped the remembrance of the whole occurrence from the tablets of his mind. But he had received such a cruel shock at hearing his little brother accused of being a thief and threatened with arrest, that the act of Hugh in clearing him assumed a magnitude in his opinion far beyond its real value. “I want to say what I think of you for doing what you did, Hugh Hardin,” he declared resolutely, his jaws set as though in grim determination. “It was white of you, that’s right, and I’ll never forget it.” “Oh! that’s all right, Lige,” answered Hugh pleasantly, as he thrust out his hand toward the other impulsively. “It was a shame that Mr. Garrison said what he did, and of course we all knew the charge was silly; but he’s so rattled he hardly knew what he was doing. I’m glad I happened to see that man grab hold of your brother and the watch slip out of his fingers. I think Billy, here, must have noticed it all, too, but things happened so fast that his breath was taken away, just as mine was for a minute or so. Better forget all about it, Lige. No harm has been done, you know.” “That’s easy for you to say, Hugh,” replied the other boy with a sigh, as he eagerly accepted the offered hand, “but it makes me ashamed to think of all I’ve done to break up that scout troop of yours, and here you keep Benjy from being arrested just as if I’d been one of your best friends. I don’t understand it, I tell you! Why should you so much as lift a finger to help a feller that has been so ugly all along, and pestered you and your crowd as I’ve done? Tell me that, Hugh!” “Why, Lige,” the assistant scout master replied, his kindly smile holding the attention of the other boy, “I suppose it must be because we are scouts, and we believe in doing the right thing, even when it’s an enemy that’s in trouble. If you had ever looked up the habits of scouts, you wouldn’t have to ask me that question. It’s given me more pleasure to be able to lend you a helping hand than ever you could get out of it, and that’s a fact, Lige.” Lige shook his head, but his eyes did not fall before that steady look. “I never knew that was what scouts believed in,” he said slowly, as an eager, wistful glow came into his eyes. “I always thought they were only a bunch of sissies that liked being dressed up in khaki suits and parading around in a silly way. Then there was that time you helped put out the fire up at my aunt’s; I seemed to begin to get my eyes opened then, and I’ve been doing a heap of thinking ever since. Hugh, do you think that you’d care to tell me a lot more about this scout racket if I came around to your house some time you set? Honest, I’d like to hear what it stands for.” “Can you drop around at my house to-night, Lige?” asked Hugh as quick as a flash, remembering his maxim of “striking while the iron is hot.” “Sure I can, if you say the word. Only set the time,” Lige answered, looking as though his mind were made up. “Say eight o’clock then; and, Lige, I’ll have nobody there,” the scout leader went on. “You can look for me. Benjy, shake hands with Hugh. He was a mighty good friend to us to-day, let me tell you, kid.” As the Corbleys went away, Lige with that brotherly arm over Benjy’s shoulder, Hugh turned and looked at Billy. “It came a heap sooner than you thought it would, didn’t it, Hugh?” demanded the stout scout, with a grin and a knowing nod. “And I guess that settles the activities of Lige Corbley as the worst boy in town.” Strange as it may seem, Hugh and Billy were given a chance to take part in the chase of the man in the buggy, who had made such a clean sweep of the jewelry establishment. They were walking home when the big police automobile hove in sight. Several policemen were aboard and the car was moving at a pace that accorded with their haste. The two scouts stepped aside to let it pass, meaning to give the men a rousing cheer, when the chief said something to the chauffeur, and suddenly the machine stopped alongside the chums. “Hop in, Hugh, if you care to go along with us,” the police head called out. “Yes, there’s room enough for you to squeeze in, too, Billy, though you take more than your share of space. I thought that, since your information proved valuable to us, it was only right you boys went along. You’ll enjoy seeing how we get our man.” “How about it, Hugh? Let’s go,” urged Billy eagerly. “Pile in!” said Hugh without ceremony; and in another second they had found places among the officers who occupied the tonneau of the car. Aside from the exciting purpose of the trip, the boys knew that they would enjoy speeding along over the country roads in the fast machine. That would be something of a picnic in itself. Perhaps the Chief was only showing his gratitude by offering the boys this chance for a run, but he may have looked further. Doubtless he remembered that these scouts had proven themselves well able to follow a trail on an earlier occasion, and he may have foreseen a similar emergency. The fugitive thief might abandon the buggy and take to the depths of the woods afoot, on finding himself hotly pursued, and in that case the boys’ services would be most welcome. That was exactly what happened. The buggy was found, abandoned, and the occupants of the big car, leaving one man to guard it, proceeded to follow the thief’s trail. From that time on, it would have been difficult to coax either one of the two boys to turn back, so intensely interested did they become in everything that pertained to this actual application of their tracking game. Hugh quickly realized that the police knew next to nothing about following a woods’ trail. Had they been alone, they would surely have been all at sea at the point where the wily rascal had taken to running the length of fallen tree-trunks, jumping off at the ends into thickets of brush, or on flat rocks where there would be no trail left to betray his course. But all this was what Billy called “just pie” for boys who had been drilled in the secrets of scout-craft. When they ventured to suggest to the officers how easy it was to “blind” the trail by this sort of clever tactics the Chief ordered them to lead off, promising to follow closely with his men. It was a proud day for Hugh and Billy when the police head thus showed his confidence in their ability. They felt that they were being amply rewarded for all the time spent in the past in gaining this knowledge of woodcraft. Through the woods they led the party, every now and then stopping to make sure they were on the right track. In the end they came to an isolated house that was said to belong to a queer old farmer, who never had anything to do with his neighbors. A couple of savage dogs greeted their arrival, which the police would have shot in their tracks, only that the old man came on the scene, and chased the ugly brutes away. When he heard what his visitors had to say, the farmer was positive that no one could have come to his place that day; nor had any one been near him for more than a week. But Hugh had heard the clamor, he claimed, of the dogs a quarter of an hour before his party reached the lonely farm; and he felt sure that the fugitive was concealed about the place right then. So with Billy at his side, he conducted a careful search of the ground, and sure enough they discovered the tracks they sought, issuing from the woods and making straight for the little tumble-down old barn. When they made this report to the Chief, he had his men quickly surround the place. Then he compelled the farmer to enter and make good use of his pitchfork in tossing the hay from one side to another. Presently a man’s boot was uncovered, seeing which, the Chief seized it and dragged the fugitive into view. The thief struggled and tried to break away, but was soon cowed by the sight of the significant bright brass buttons on the Chief’s coat; though perhaps the heavy pistol that was kept pointed at his head had something to do with his docility. Looking further, they found the bag into which he had thrust all the stuff taken from the store. And so, after all, the jeweler came out of the affair luckily, although that was not the most fortunate result of the incident. |
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