“If you want the man arrested you had better take him directly to Justice Harwig’s house,” said Ramson. “He does all the law business in these parts.”
So to that individual’s cottage they turned, and Matt sprang from the wagon and used the old-fashioned knocker vigorously. A long silence followed, and then a window upstairs was raised 217 and a head adorned with a nightcap was thrust out.
“What’s wanted?”
“We’ve got a criminal for ye, judge,” called out Ramson. “The fellow as run away with that auction turn-out.”
“A criminal, eh? All right, I’ll be down in a minnit!”
The head disappeared and the window was closed. Five minutes passed and then a light appeared in a wing of the house, and the justice opened the door to what he termed his office.
“Now, what’s it all about?” he asked in a sleepy voice.
All hands entered the place, Andy and the mountaineer leading Paul Barberry, who looked anything but comfortable. The prisoner was marched up before the justice’s desk, and the others ranged themselves alongside of him, while Justice Harwig, a very pleasant man, made himself comfortable to listen to what all hands might have to say.
The hearing was a short one, and at its conclusion Paul Barberry was marched off to the village lock-up, the justice stating that he would notify the Phillipsburg authorities, so that they could get the necessary papers and take him away.
Barberry did all he could to beg off, offering at 218 the last moment to pay a fine equal to the amount of money in his pocket—eighteen dollars. But neither the justice nor the others would listen to this. Had he not made the fight, Matt and Andy might have had some pity on him, but they were but human and could not so easily forget the blows they had suffered at the hands of the thieves.