“Better wait, an’ see.”
“I am entitled to some rights in this matter,” went on Dan. “I should be represented by a lawyer.”
“There ain’t none in town now,” said Mr. Walker. “John Burge has gone t’ Canestota, and Ed Lancing is over t’ his mother’s. But Judge Perkfell will know what t’ do.”
“I am entitled to a representative in court,” insisted Dan, “and if I can’t have a lawyer I wish you would send for Mr. Harrison.”
“What, that blacksmith? He don’t know no law,” objected Jacob Wolff.
“Maybe not, but he is my friend, and he told me to let him know when I was in trouble, and I’m in trouble now.”
“Wa’al, I’ll tell him,” said Mr. Walker, not very kindly, for he did not want to lose anything of what was to take place. “I’ll tell him t’ come t’ Squire Perkfell’s court. Jake, d’ ye think ye kin manage him?” and he nodded at Dan.
“Oh, don’t be afraid, I’m not going to escape,” said the boy, understanding what was meant.
“I guess ye’d better not,” spoke Mr. Wolff fiercely taking a better grip on Dan’s coat sleeve.
While one constable went, rather reluctantly, to summon the veteran blacksmith, the other led Dan toward Hank Lee’s store, a crowd of persons gathering as soon as they emerged from the town hall.