by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER XXVI.
GRANT’S DEFIANCE.
It was impossible for Rod wholly to conceal his disturbed state of mindfrom his aunt, but he skillfully evaded answering her questions, bywhich she sought to learn what was the trouble. If the implicatinghandkerchief had been found by Barker, Springer and Piper, as stated,he wondered how it had come to be where it was discovered, and slowly asuspicion and a possible solution crept into his mind. Nevertheless, hewas not yet satisfied that a “job” had not been put up on him byBarker, and he felt a strong desire to question Springer and Piper.Later, if they persisted in corroborating Barker’s words, he would findthe fellow on whom his suspicions had turned and give him a taste ofthe “third degree.”
Unable to remain inactive while his enemy was at work, and reallydreading the reappearance of Deputy Sheriff Pickle with a warrant forhis arrest, Rod made an excuse to go for the mail and set his feettoward the village. He was hesitating about entering the postofficewhen some one called to him from the shadows between two buildings.
“Davis!” he breathed. “Perhaps this is as good a time as any.”
“’St!” hissed Spotty. “Come here, Rod, old feller. Something doin’.”
Grant joined him. “What is it, Davis? What’s up?”
“I don’t know just what’s up,” answered Spotty; “but there’s somethingin the air, you bet. See that light in the winder over there?” Hepointed to a lighted window over one of the stores across the street.
“Yes.”
“That’s old Shyster Frances’ office. They’ve got Bunk up there, and Iguess they’re goin’ for him. Wonder what he’s done now?”
“Got Lander up there, have they? Who’s got him?”
“Old Pickle marched him up the stairs, and I see Berlin Barker and hisfather foller. Can’t be they’re doin’ anything about that old affair,and I’m guessin’ what Bunk’s been into lately.”
“I reckon I know what they’re trying to do,” growled Rod, “and I judgeit’s about time I strolled in on them myself.”
He started, and Davis, springing forward, grabbed his arm.
“What are you goin’ to do, Rod?” palpitated Spotty. “It ain’t nothin’to you. You better keep away.”
The boy from Texas shook him off. “Let go! Bunk stood by me when I wasin a right bad scrape. Perhaps you’d better come along, too.”
“Not on your life!” said Spotty, hurriedly retreating in great alarm.“They don’t get me into no mess.”
Rodney crossed the street and unhesitatingly mounted the stairs leadingto the door of Lawyer Frances’ office. Perhaps William Pickle wasprepared with the warrant for his arrest, but that did not lead him tohesitate or falter for a second. He saw the lawyer’s name lettered inblack on the ground glass of the door, through which the light fromwithin faintly shone, and his steady hand found the knob.
The lawyer was sitting at his desk with his swivel chair turnedsidewise so that he could face Lander, who, wearing a sullen look ofdefiance, stood a few feet away. Berlin Barker’s father was alsoseated, with Berlin standing beside his chair. Deputy Sheriff Picklewas posted within four feet of the office door. As that door swung openand the new arrival stepped boldly in, every eye switched from Lander,and Bunk, seeing Rod, uttered an exclamation of relief and satisfaction.
“Here he is!” he cried. “Now you can question him yourselves. Thisbunch has been trying to force me into lying about what was done thismorning, Rod. Somebody shot Barker’s hound, and——”
“Be quiet, Lander!” ordered the lawyer, bringing his knuckles downsharply on the edge of his desk. “Close the door, Pickle. It is ratherfortunate this young man chose to come here at this time. Perhaps hehas decided to make a confession, which is certainly the wisest coursehe can pursue.”
“I haven’t anything whatever to confess, Mr. Frances,” said Rodneyboldly. “Hearing that Lander had been brought here, I knew well enoughwhat you were trying to do with him, and so——”
“And so he come running, for fear Lander would peach,” interruptedBerlin Barker.
“I didn’t have nothing to tell, and if I had I wouldn’t ’a’ told it,”said Bunk.
“You can see the disposition of the boy, Mr. Frances,” said Berlin’sfather. “He brazenly acknowledges that he wouldn’t tell under anycircumstances.”
“But,” put in Rod at once, “he states the truth when he says he hasnothing to tell. Where are Springer and Piper? I’d like to ask them ifthey saw Berlin Barker find my silk handkerchief, as he claimed he did,somewhere back of Turkey Hill.”
“They have already made such a statement in my presence,” announced thelawyer. “The evidence is against you, young man, and the easiest wayout of your trouble is to own up and settle for that valuable dog whichyou maliciously slaughtered.”
“I object to your language, sir. I know nothing whatever about theshooting of Barker’s dog.”
“Will you explain how your handkerchief came to be found where it was?”
“I can’t explain that—at present,” confessed Rod. “All I have to say isthat somebody must have stolen it from me and lost it there.”
Berlin sneered, and his father, pulling a grieved and indignantcountenance, said:
“Such a subterfuge is palpably puerile. According to all reports, youngGrant, since appearing in this town, has plainly shown himself to be avicious and undesirable character—such a boy as must contaminate thosewith whom he associates. He has likewise shown what he is by choosingas companions the worst boys of Oakdale.”
“Got your hammer out, old man,” growled Lander. “You’re one of the kindthat don’t want to give a feller no show, and there’s plenty of ’em’round here. Mebbe you think your own son is a little white saint,but——”
“Silence, you young reprobate!” cried Mr. Barker, rising to his feet.“You’ve been watched since you came back here, and——”
“Oh, yes, I’ve been watched—I know it. Give a chap a black name andthen kick him is the way they do hereabouts.”
Grant’s calm defiance had stiffened Lander’s backbone, and he was notat all terrified by the aspect of Mr. Barker.
“Without no cause,” he went on, “your son’s tried to soak Rod Grant,and it’s made him madder’n a hornet ’cause he ain’t come out of histricks with flying colors. If I’d been in Rod’s place, he’d foundhimself up against something hot long ago.”
“Never mind taking up my battle, Lander,” said Rodney. “I reckon I cantake care of myself. All I ask of you is that you stick to the straighttruth and don’t let any one frighten you into lying.”
“That’s what they was tryin’ to do. They was even callin’ up that oldscrape and tryin’ to make me believe something would be done if Ididn’t go back on you and tell a mess of stuff that wasn’t true. Theycan’t prove anything against ye, Rod; the straight facts make an alibi,as they call it in law, and they’ll never git only straight goods fromme.”
Satisfied now that, in spite of the seeming incriminating evidence ofthe handkerchief, his enemy could prove nothing, Grant uttered a bolddefiance:
“I’m here. If they want to arrest me let them do so. Have you a warrantfor me, Mr. Pickle?”
“Not yet,” acknowledged the deputy sheriff; “but I’m reddy to serve itas soon’s it’s placed in my han’s.”
“Do you wish to swear out a warrant, Barker?” asked the lawyer.
Mr. Barker cleared his throat, his manner plainly indicating anuncertain state of mind.
“Why, I—I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary to-night, Frances. Thefellow won’t be likely to get away, and we may obtain further evidencebearing on the case. That hound was a valuable dog. I paid a fancyprice for him, in order that Berlin might have a good rabbit dog, andI’m naturally intensely outraged and highly indignant over the actionof this boy in shooting——”
“I object to your language, also, sir,” cried Rod. “You must plainlyrealize tha
t the proof on which you base such a malicious charge isworthless, and your persistence in it is plain slander.”
“We’ll get him yet,” declared Berlin savagely—“we’ll get him unless heruns away.”
“I’m not even going to run away as far as Clearport,” returned the boyfrom Texas cuttingly. “You won’t find me imitating your example, Mr.Barker.”
“If he should run away,” said Berlin’s father, “it might be a goodthing for the town; it can spare him and his well chosen companions.”
“Don’t you reckon on it,” advised Rod. “I’m going to stay right here inOakdale and see this thing through. Maybe when the straight truth comesout you’ll owe me an apology; but, if you’re like your son, I don’topine I’ll get one. Come, Bunk, let’s pike along.”
“Sure,” said Lander, starting with great willingness.
Pickle stepped in front of the door, giving Mr. Barker a questioningglance.
“Let them go,” said the man; and Rod passed out, with Lander, grinning,at his heels.
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