"Let's see it," said the policeman.
Weeks, storming and protesting, showed him the court order.
"That's no good here. You'll have to get her into the state where it was issued before you can use that," said the policeman.
"You're a liar! I'll take her now—"
The policeman's club was out, and he threatened Weeks with it.
"You touch her and I'll run you in," he said, angrily. "We don't stand for men laying their hands on girls and women in this town. Get away with you now! If I catch you hanging around here five minutes from now, I'll take you to the lock-up, and you can spend the night in a cell."
"But—" began Weeks.
"Not a word more—or I'll do as I say," said the policeman. He was energetic, if he was fat, and he had put a protective arm about Zara. Weeks looked at him and then he slunk off.
And, as he went, the girls heard a merry chorus, "Wo-he-lo, Wo-he-lo," just as another train puffed in.