“I’d hate to have Joe initiate me into his lodge,” said Sam Berry. “I only have one head and I need it in my business.”
“Same here,” chuckled Ed Wilson. “I believe in the strenuous life, but Joe’s methods can hardly be called ladylike. Almost rough, you might say.”
“It was too bad,” said Joe, half remorsefully. “I hated to do it, but it seemed the only way, and it was a matter of life and death.”
“You needn’t have any qualms of conscience about it,” said Sol. “It was the finest thing that has been done in this old town for many a moon, and it’ll be a long time before people get through talking about it.”
“If you hadn’t done it, there would probably be crepe on the Bilkins doorbell this morning,” added Sam. “I tell you it made my blood run cold when he swung the baby in the air. I thought it was a goner sure.”
“‘All’s well that ends well,’” quoted Joe, lightly. “I think I’ll run down to the jail and take a look at this Talham Tabbs. I may get some inkling of what he had in mind when he kidnapped the baby.”
“You have a swell chance of getting anything from that chap,” said Ed Wilson, skeptically. “But perhaps it won’t do any harm to try.”
Joe said goodby to his companions and sauntered down to the jail, which was located on the southeast edge of the town. A few minutes’ walk brought him within sight of it.
It was not an impressive structure. In the little town of Riverside crimes were few and far between. The chief function of the jail was to take charge of wandering hoboes and to house some participant in a brawl such as took place from time to time between the laborers at the Harvester works. Once in a great while, something more important was charged against some reluctant dweller in the jail, and on such occasions there was more than ordinary stir within its sleepy precincts.