Shortly afterwards the pair were trudging along the road outside the corporation limits of the town of Scranton. It was some time before the customary church hour, and they were almost certain to find the old deacon at home, Hugh believed.
On the way they met a car coming along the road. In it was Chief Wambold. Scranton had advanced far enough toward the dignity of cityhood to have an auto for the police force, since the Chief often had to go to neighboring towns on matters of business, taking a prisoner, or getting one to fetch back.
He nodded to the boys as he shot past.
"Doesn't look very amiable, does he?" muttered Thad. "So I rather guess he didn't get much satisfaction from the old deacon. But he's awful stubborn, is our efficient head of police; and if he can find any way to put that business on Nick's shoulders he will, take my word for it."
Hugh only smiled as though he was not worrying about anything Chief Wambold could accomplish. He had known the other to make several "bone-plays" since coming to Scranton, and hence Hugh did not have a very high opinion of the official's merits, though not doubting his honesty of purpose at all.
After a short time they arrived at the smithy. Deacon Winslow lived close to his shop. He was a big man, with the proverbial muscles of the blacksmith; and for many years he had been looked upon as a pillar in the church he attended.
Besides this he was reckoned a good man, who could always be counted on to go out of his way to do a favor for anybody. The poor of Scranton loved him better than they did anyone they knew. His acts were often "hidden under a bushel," since he did not go around, as Thad once said, "blowing his own horn, and advertising his goodness as one would soft soap."
Strange as it might seem, Deacon Winslow had taken quite a fancy to Nick Lang, and possibly he was the only respectable man in all Scranton who did. Perhaps he admired Nick's muscular build, and believed he would make a fine smith, if the husky boy only took a liking to the vocation of hammer and forge and anvil.
Then again it was likely that the deacon, who was a shrewd old fellow as well as good-natured and honest, saw deeper into that bad boy's soul than ordinary people, judging from surface indications. Hugh himself was inclined to believe this might be the case.
Be that as it may, Nick had been known to go out there to the Winslow shop occasionally after supper, and work alongside the old man for hours at a time. Folks considered it only another odd fad on the part of the deacon. They prophesied that he would sooner or later he sorry for having anything to do with such a good-for-nothing scapegrace as Nick Lang, who would not hesitate to play some nasty practical joke on his benefactor when the notion seized him and he had grown tired of bothering with blacksmithing.