CHAPTER V Rewarded

The procession that wound out of the gate, down the road, over the railroad tracks, past the station, into and along the main street a little way, then down the broad cross street to the mills was indeed a queer one; naturally one to draw the attention of a crowd, if there had been anyone on the street so early in the morning to see it. Those who were up and about, who had not gone back to bed after the explosion, had stayed at the mill to join in the well-paid-for work of rehabilitation, or to stand around and discuss the crime.

When the slow-moving caravan arrived, after a toilsome trip with many stops for rest, Clem having been the motive power all the way for the squeaking, one-wheeled vehicle, the crowd at the mill paused to observe and consider this rather startling performance. Christmas night was one long to be remembered in Lofton.

“Hi! Here comes the circus, the elephant in the lead!” announced Jimmy West, a wit among the mill hands, as he caught sight of the outline of the approaching group. Shultz marched ahead; then came the wheel-barrow and Clem; then Don, his revolver ever ready.

“Ah, what—what have you here? What does this mean, my son?” Mr. Stapley queried.

“Fer goodness’ sake, hit’s Dutchy Shultz an’ another feller, thet them there boys hez brung in!” remarked an ancient citizen.

“Dis vas von outrache, py gollies! I vill nod—”

“Shut up, Shultz, I told you, or you’ll get plugged yet!” Don threatened. The crowd did not embarrass him.

“We think this is your dynamiter, Dad,” Clem stated, calmly. He had had time to compose himself.

“Eh? What makes you think so?”

“Got a lot of reasons, Dad; a lot of evidence against this fellow.”

“So? But what’s the matter with him?”

“Donald shot him. He isn’t much hurt, I guess. But we don’t know. We just brought them along.”

“Hey, Mr. Strang, here, evidently, is a job for you! And we’d better have Doctor Richards here again.”

The town constable clambered out from among the wreckage of the office building where he had been searching for clues and approached. Amid the buzz of remarks and questions he paused long enough to consider and then to become somewhat nettled at what appeared like high-handed proceedings beyond his authority.

“What’s this? You kids make an arrest? Took a lot on yourselves, I’m thinkin’. Eh? Shot this fellow? Hello! You Shultz? Huh! This looks like pretty darned bold business to me. Put down that gun, young fellow!” This to Don.

“You go and sit down will you? Maybe you think I’ve had no use for this.” Don was still seeing red, but with all of his wits working. “Mr. Stapley, you get busy on this; you’re most interested. This gink,” indicating the constable, “couldn’t catch a mudturtle that had robbed a hen roost in the middle of the day. There’s just one thing to do: bring the watchman here.”

“Put up that gun, I tell you!” ordered Strang, starting toward Don.

“If you want to fill an early grave you get gay with me now!” Don said, backing off around the crowd. Mr Stapley interposed.

“Put up your pistol, Donald. We’ll take care of this matter now.”

“But, Mr. Stapley, Shultz will get away! He and Strang are old cronies. Many a jag Strang got in Shultz’s place when he had his saloon; everybody knows that.” This caused a general laugh.

“Let him alone, Strang. Perhaps these boys have done us a big service.”

“Well, if you think maybe we’ve got the wrong men, just get the watchman here,” Don reiterated.

“Davis went home and to bed,” announced a bystander.

“Well, we can wake him; we’ll wheel these fellows over there and let him see this one,” Don insisted.

Mr. Stapley issued several rapid orders; a big mill hand, grinning, brought up the wheelbarrow and began trundling it and its human freight down the street again. Two others, with a piece of stout twine, noosed Shultz’s hands behind him and had him helpless in a moment; then handed him over to Strang, who really would not have dared to be false to his trust. Don, beneath a lamp and before Strang, emptied the cartridges out of his revolver; then handed his weapon to Clem, who also unloaded his gun, and the boys quickly followed on to the watchman’s abode.

The ceremony there was as dramatic as could have been wished by the most excitement-loving onlooker. Davis was brought down to the door and he took a look at the two Germans under a bright light. He paused long enough to make his assertion emphatic, pointing his finger and appearing so sure that no one could have doubted him.

“I didn’t see Shultz an’ I would have knowed him, anyway; he ain’t no stranger to nary one in this here town. But I did see that man! He’s one o’ them that run from the office buildin’ acrosst the yard just before the bomb went off. That feller an’ another one—a long, thin cuss without any whiskers—they must ’a’ set their fuses too short an’ was scared, because they skinned out awful quick. Then the thing went off an’ the one near where I was a second later, an’ it fixed me so’s I didn’t know nothin’.”

“You think that this man—” began Mr. Stapley, indicating the wheelbarrow’s passenger who had said no word, but only sat hugging his leg and looking very pale.

“Yes sir, Mr. Stapley, that there feller is one o’ the two men I seen. I’m as sure of it as I am that the sun riz yest’day mornin’! I’ll take a bunch of oaths on it ez big ez the mill prop’ty! Knowed him soon’s I seen him.”

“Thank you, Davis. Go back to bed and I hope you’re better—”

A cheer, at first uncertain, then growing in volume and intent, interrupted the mill president.

“Hurrah for the kids!” it began; then; “That’s the stuff!” “Sure they turned the trick!” “Them kids is some fellers!” and: “Whoop ’em up!” Both boys were caught up on the shoulders of the crowd and passing Strang someone shouted:

“Say, Constable, you ain’t got a blamed thing t’ say, so shut up!”

“Ben, you and Phil get this fellow down to the mill hospital and stay with him,” ordered Mr. Stapley. “The doctor will be here any minute. Mr. Strang, hold on to Shultz; he was giving these men asylum and we all know his sentiments. Better lock him up and we’ll work the legal proceedings tomorrow. As for the boys, I won’t stand for any action to be taken against them, unless the district attorney insists, and I don’t believe he will. They may have exceeded their rights, but you see the result. Good-night, Strang. Come on, men; we’ll go back to work. You boys had better go home and get some sleep; you both need it. We’ll talk the whole matter over tomorrow.”

But when the morrow came, a little late in the morning, the talk was prefaced by a bit of news. A few hours before the bearded German had eluded his jailors just long enough to swallow a dose of poison and he had died in half a minute and almost without a tremor. Prussic acid, Doctor Richards said, and added that the wound inflicted by Don’s bullet was a mere flesh scratch in the leg and had only caused a temporary paralysis, largely imaginary. In the darkness the boy had aimed to hit the fellow just above the knee.

They were all at the Stapley mansion, most comfortably seated. The president of the mills and the doctor were old friends, knowing nothing of the long feud between the lads here in the town and at Brighton, and now pleased that the boys had acted together.

“We want to know the whole story; just how it all happened and all that you did; eh, Doc?” Mr. Stapley demanded.

Between them the boys managed to make a complete narrative, though the latter part of it—the taking of the two Germans and the shooting—Clem told, after much cross-questioning. Mr Stapley then commented:

“It’s pretty easy to grasp the merits of this, Doc. My son’s part has been anything but that which a proud father could be ashamed of and I’m glad the boy has shown so much nerve and spunk. But it is your son, Donald here, who has really carried the thing through. That boy’s going to be a regular young Napoleon one of these days, Doc, you may be sure! Better give his scrapping ability all the development possible.”

“Oh, now, Mr. Stapley, I didn’t do any more than Clem did. He was right there on the job. Why, he wheeled the wheelbarrow and he—”

“Oh, very good indeed! A rather hard task! But something of a laborer’s job wasn’t it? You seem to have done—”

“‘Comparisons are odious,’ Stapley. There’s glory enough in this to go round,” suggested the doctor.

“Sure, sure, but nevertheless we’ve got to discriminate when the rewards are forthcoming. Our company is greatly indebted to these boys and so is the country. That fellow might have gotten off and have done a lot more damage, probably to us. Now we’ve got only one rascal to hunt down. It is wonderful, I must say, very, for boys to have carried this out as you did. Clem, you deserve high praise for getting on to those fellows in the train. But now look here son, the strategy of the actual capture and the nervy manner in which it was carried out seems to have depended mostly upon Donald and I want you to act with me in this matter. The company will reward this act with five hundred dollars and, my boy, in this case I want it all to go to Donald. You shall reap your reward otherwise; I’ll see to that in various ways. Of course you’re willing?”

“I’m not willing!” spoke up Don and his father shook his head. Clem gazed straight before him with a solemn, hurt expression.

“It must be as I wish,” Mr Stapley insisted. “We shall consent to no other arrangement. Doc, I’ll send the check to you to bank for your boy, and Donald, I want to thank you for your splendid action in this affair.”