“Well—er—maybe I’m a leetle off on figgers,” admitted the sheriff. “It may be seven miles, but you’re both arrested—er—um—fer disturbin’ the peace. There, I guess you can’t git around that. I may be a leetle mite hazy on law, but I ain’t on fact. Do you deny that you disturbed the peace?” and he turned to Jerry.
“I admit I knocked him down,” said the boy, nodding toward the bully, who was entering the room. “I’m willing to pay a fine for that if I may file this paper. How much do I owe you?”
“We can’t do business in that loose way,” spoke the sheriff, with a great sense of his own importance. “This must go through a regular form. You’ll both have to go before the judge. I’ll arrest you both.”
“But can’t I file this paper?” insisted Jerry. “You can arrest me just the same.”
“One thing at a time,” went on the sheriff. “You come with me; let the judge hear the case, an’ if he finds you not guilty you can come back here an’ file fifty papers if you want to. But you can’t now, an’ I forbid this clerk to take any papers from anybody until I come back.”
Jerry fretted at the delay. It was easy to see that in this rough, western town the authority of the sheriff was paramount. At first Jerry thought it might be a trick put up to benefit Noddy, but when he saw the bully was not allowed to file his papers either, he became convinced that the sheriff thought he was acting within his legal rights.
Followed by a big crowd, the officer led his two prisoners toward the rude shanty where the judge held court as often as it was necessary. Noddy was plainly in a great rage, but Jerry took it all as good-naturedly as he could.
“You wait till Pud Stoneham and Tom Dalsett hear of this!” blustered Noddy to the sheriff. “They’ll make trouble, for they told me to be sure and file that paper as soon as I could.”
“What names did you say?” asked the sheriff.