CHAPTER XI.
THE TURNING POINT.
Lige could hardly believe his ears when the clerk of the jewelry establishment made this astonishing charge, eager to cover up his own carelessness at the time the robbery was committed and to shift the blame.
He stood there and stared, first at the flushed face of the man and then at the tear-stained countenance of Benjy. The crowd jostled and pushed to see and hear, but for a wonder it remained voiceless. Perhaps surprise held the spectators spellbound; or it might be they recognized the fact that Lige Corbley as a rule could fight his own battles.
The boy finally found his tongue, and turning toward his younger brother he exclaimed almost tenderly:
“What does he mean by saying that, Benjy? How could you have that watch in your pocket, when I just left you here a few minutes ago? It can’t be so. He’s lying, to get us into trouble. It must be a set-up job! Tell me, did you ever see that watch before he held it up right now?”
Benjy seemed to have regained his power of speech, also, for he immediately replied to this question by saying:
“I felt somethin’ heavy in my jacket pocket, Lige,—this one it was,—and when I put my hand in, I pulled that watch out. But I don’t know however it came there, cross my heart if I do, Lige!”
The older boy whirled on the clerk, his eyes snapping with anger.
“There, do you hear what Benjy says, Mr. Garrison? He found your old watch in a pocket of his jacket, but if you say he knew anything about its being stolen or had anything to do with the thief, why, it isn’t so and you’re telling what’s a bare-faced lie. Benjy wouldn’t take a pin that wasn’t his own!”
He again threw a protecting arm across the shoulder of the smaller lad, who looked up at him with a smile of confidence on his thin face that told of hope renewed. Many times had Lige stood between the weak little chap and trouble; and in the eyes of Benjy he was a tower of strength. With Lige at hand, the cripple could banish fear and feel sure of protection.