“I have orders, also, to bring the goat before the magistrate,” was the serious reply.
“Oh, he wants to get our goat, does he?” demanded Herc.
“Herc, don’t make fun of this thing. It may be serious,” spoke Ned in a low voice. “We will go with you, sir,” he added, addressing the constable.
“Very well. This way, please.”
“Great starboard salvos! In bad again,” groaned Herc dismally as, followed by a jeering crowd, they set off down the street.
CHAPTER XXII.
UNDER ARREST.
The courtroom was a large, cool chamber, protected from the hot sun by green latticed blinds. The judge proved to be a humorous-faced American dressed in white ducks. As the boys were marched into the courtroom, a great hub-bub was set up by a group that they recognized as the party whose luncheon had been so rudely interrupted by Blue Lightning’s charge.
“So you lads are from the fleet?” the judge asked, as the boys were formally arraigned at the bar of justice, which, in this case, was a plain kitchen table with a big jug of ice-water on it.
“Yes, sir, from the Manhattan,” responded Ned respectfully.