"I guess I know my business," replied the bluecoat shortly. "Move on here. Let me pass or I'll run some of ye in."
"I tell you that you are making a mistake, officer," insisted the fat man, firmly. "This boy stood right in front of me when I was watching the lads in bathing. He was not in the water at all. Why, you can see that for yourself. His shoes are not wet."
Sure enough, though Dick was pretty well soaked all over, his feet had escaped the drenching.
"How do you know he stood in front of you?" inquired the policeman, not accepting the more apparent evidence of the shoes.
"How do I know? The very best reason in the world. He stepped back to get out of the way of the rushing lads, and he came down on my favorite corn. I'm limping yet."
"I'm very sorry," began Dick, who had not had time to finish his apology.
"That's all right," answered the fat man, good-naturedly. "I'll forgive you, and do you a favor in the bargain. No, officer," he went on, "you are mistaken. This boy was not in bathing. I will testify in his favor. Here is my card, if you insist on making an arrest."
He passed a bit of pasteboard over to the policeman, who, when he had read it, took on a different attitude.
"Oh, very well, Alderman Casey," he said, "I beg your pardon. I didn't know he was a friend of yours, or I wouldn't have bothered him. Of course I must have made a mistake. He can go."
"I don't know whether he's a friend of mine or not," continued the alderman with a smile. "I'm inclined to think, by the way my corn hurts, that he isn't. But I want to see justice done. There, my lad, run along now, before you get any wetter, or step on any more fat men's toes," and the alderman, satisfied at having done a good act, and at demonstrating his influence over the police before a crowd, laughed heartily.