“Hold on!” cried Regan. “We’ll get you out all right, same as we always do. You’re too valuable to us to go to jail for long.”
Then, as Bulldog started for the dark entrance to the lodging house, Joe realized that he had seen what is called a “stool-pigeon,” a character hated by all criminals, and not very much respected by the police whom they serve. A “stool-pigeon” consorts with criminals, that he may overhear their plans, and betray them to the police. Often he is himself a petty criminal. In a sense he does a duty to the public, making it more easy for the authorities to arrest wrong-doers—but no one loves a “stool-pigeon.” They are the decoy ducks of the criminal world.
I am making this explanation, and portraying this scene in Joe Matson’s career, not because it is pleasant to write about, for it is not. I would much rather take you out on the clean diamond, where you could hear the “swat” of the ball. But as Joe’s efforts to make a new man of the old pitcher took him into this place I can do no less than chronicle the events as they happened. And a little knowledge of the sadder, darker and unhappy side of life may be of value to boys, in deterring them from getting into a position where it would appeal to them—appeal wrongly, it is true, but none the less strongly.
The Bulldog had not been in the building more than a minute before the door opened again, and Pop Dutton, alone, and looking hastily around, came out. Joe got in a shadow where he could not be seen. He did not want his friend humiliated, now that he had seen him come out victorious.
For the young pitcher could see that Pop was the same straight and sober self he had been since getting back on the right road. His association with his former companions had evidently not tempted him.
“Oh, I’m glad!” exulted Joe.
Pop Dutton looked curiously at the two detectives.
“Thanks,” he said briefly, as he passed them, and they knew that he understood. Not for a long time afterward did the former pitcher know that to Joe he owed so much. For, though his intention in going to the rendezvous of the unfortunates of the under-world was good, still it might have been misconstrued. Now there was no danger.
Afterward Joe learned that Pop had been urged by the man he met on the street to take part in a robbery. The old pitcher refused, but his false companion tried to lure him back to his old life, on the plea that only from his own lips would his associates believe that Pop had reformed. And Pop made them plainly understand that he had.
Pop Dutton passed on down the street, and, waiting a little while, Joe followed. He did not care to see the raid. The young pitcher soon reached his hotel, and he felt that Pop was safe in his own boarding house.