He stooped for a minute, with his hands resting upon his knees, and stared with a perplexed expression at the supposed bear; then the situation began to dawn upon him, and he burst out into a tremendous laugh.
“Oh, it is a foine bear ye be, sonny!” he exclaimed, lifting the boy-bear unceremoniously on his arm, and grabbing hold of Alf’s collar with his disengaged hand. “A smart young un ye be, be jabers! It is an alderman ye will be before ye doi—if ye only vote the roight ticket. ’Tis a shame, it is, ye don’t talk a Christian language, sech as a gintleman can understand.”
He was moving up Greenwich Street, talking in this humorous strain, half to himself and half to his prisoners, whom he was dragging reluctantly along, when his progress was suddenly arrested by a little girl who became unaccountably entangled in his legs.
IN BATTERY PARK.
“Mr. Policeman,” the child cried, in the same unintelligible tongue, gazing up with a pale and excited face at the tall officer, “please don’t hurt my brothers. And won’t you please take me along, too? I have been bad, too, Mr. Policeman—much badder than Truls.”
“Why, how-de-do, sis!” the officer asked, with a broad grin. “Is it the bear ye be, did ye say, as lent yer skin to this little chap? Ah, be jabers! now I begin to take in yer capers. It is a moighty mixed-up lot ye be, and up to no end of thricks. But jest ye wait till his honor gits hold on ye, and he will know how to git each one of ye back into his roight skin.”
This sinister allusion was lost, however, on the three culprits, and even if they had understood it, it would probably not have impressed them greatly. Their life had been so exciting since they left their quiet Norse valley, that they had almost ceased to be surprised at anything that might happen to them. Alf and Karen plodded on wearily at the policeman’s side, holding on to the tails of his coat, and showing no desire to part company with him; and Truls, who was wellnigh exhausted by the labors and excitement of the day, was only too glad to be able to rest his shaggy head on the officer’s shoulders, and to embrace his neck with his two hairy paws. The officer, somehow, seemed to enjoy the situation; for he laughed and chuckled incessantly to himself, as if he were contemplating some delightful plan which promised a great deal of amusement. He shook his club good-naturedly at the crowd which followed him, and pushed his way onward, until he reached a large brick building, over the door of which was carved, in big Roman letters, “Police Precinct, No. ——.” Here he entered with his prisoners, and after having made an entry in a book, consigned them to a large, bare, and dreary-looking room, where a few miserable people were reposing in various attitudes upon the floor.
The two Norse boys, who vaguely understood that this was some kind of a prison, looked with horror upon the ragged and untidy occupants of the room, and withdrew with their sister into the remotest corner they could find, so as to escape observation. Here they held a consultation, glancing all the while fearfully about them, and lowering their voices to a whisper.