Walter Sherwood's Probation

He turned, and saw two stalwart men eyeing him suspiciously.

“Gentlemen,” said Walter earnestly, “till I read this notice I had no idea that the horse was stolen.”

“That’s neither here nor there. You’d better get off the hoss.”

Walter felt that this was a command, and obeyed at once.

“Very well, gentlemen,” he said. “I will leave the horse in your hands, and depend upon you to return it to the owner.”

As Walter spoke he turned to walk off, but the man who had first accosted him got in his way.

“I don’t want to have any trouble with you, sir. Please get out of my way, and let me go.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“What do you propose to do with me?”

“Take you to the lockup.”

Walter was now really alarmed.

“You’ll have to go with us, young feller!” said Crane.

“And leave the hoss?” asked Penton. “We’d ought to take charge of it, and get the reward.”

“That’s so, Penton. You go and get a constable. We’ll stand by the hoss.”

Penton hurried off, and returned shortly with a constable in uniform.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“This young feller’s rid into town with Colonel Richard Owen’s hoss.”

“But I’d ought to secure the hoss,” said the constable, who felt that perhaps he might be entitled to the reward offered.

“Look here, Cyrus Stokes, you secure the thief—that’s your lookout.”

“Gentlemen,” said Walter, “I object to being called a thief. I have already told you I did not steal the horse.”

The constable seized Walter by the arm and walked off with him. To add to his mortification, people whom they met on the street looked at him curiously.

CHAPTER XXXI

IN THE LOCKUP

The lockup was a basement room under the engine-house. There were four cells, about four by eight, and into one of these Walter was put. The cell opposite was occupied by a drunken tramp, who looked up stupidly as Walter entered, and hiccoughed: “Glad to see you sonny.”

“And I must stay in here overnight—with that man?”

“Hoss-stealers mustn’t be particular,” said the constable.

“Can you tell me where Colonel Owen lives—the man that owns the horse?”

“You ought to know that!”

“Is there any lawyer in this village?”

“Yes, there’s two, an old man and a young one.”

“I should like to see one of them. Can you ask one of them to come here?”

“It’s a leetle out of my way,” suggested Constable Stokes.

The constable pocketed with alacrity the half-dollar our hero tendered him, and said briskly. “I’ll send him right off.”

“I shay,” interjected the tramp, “send me a lawyer, too.”

“The same man will do for you,” replied the constable. “A lawyer won’t do you no good, though.”

“We’re victims of tyrannical ‘pression!” said the tramp gloomily. “What are you in for, young feller?”

“I’m charged with stealing a horse.”

“Smart boy!” said the tramp admiringly. “I didn’t think you was up to hoss-stealin’.”

“I am not. The charge is false.”

“That’s right! Stick to it! Deny everything. That’s what I do.” Half an hour later the outer door was opened and the constable reappeared, followed by a young man of about thirty.

“This is Mr. Barry, the lawyer,” he said. “Mr. Barry, here is the key. You can keep it and let yourself out if you will be responsible for the safe custody of the prisoner.”

“Yes, Mr. Stokes, I will give you my word that he shall not escape. Which is my client?”

“You don’t look like a criminal, certainly,” said the lawyer, with a rapid survey of his new client.

“I hope not.”

“But one can’t go by appearances wholly. As your lawyer, for I will undertake your case, I must ask you to trust me entirely, and give me your full confidence.

“First, let me ask your name.”

“Walter Sherwood.”

“It will now be necessary for you to tell me frankly whether you stole the horse or not.”

“Of course I did not,” answered Walter indignantly.

“You must excuse my asking the question. I did not believe you guilty, but it was necessary for me to know positively from your own lips. You must not be sensitive.”