The clerk, however, was not yet ready to give up. For some reason or other he seemed anxious to keep attention riveted in another quarter, so as to delay the investigation as long as possible. Perhaps he found his own conscience accusing him of lack of discretion in giving a stranger a chance to seize upon the most valuable contents of the establishment.
“Whether the boy is guilty as a confederate or not,” he said, grimly, with compressed lips and a baleful gleam in his pale eyes, “the stolen goods having been found in his possession makes him a partner in the crime, after the act. Until this thing can be looked into more closely he ought to be held, and I call on the police to take him in charge on suspicion!”
He beckoned to the big Chief as he said this. Lige turned white, and then a red spot glowed in either cheek. There were low murmurs of protest from a part of the crowd, as though this high-handed proceeding on the part of the indiscreet clerk struck them as going much too far. But not a hand was raised to bar the officer of the law from doing what was demanded of him.
“Do you mean that you’re going to lock my brother up at police headquarters just because that runaway thief chose to drop a watch in his pocket as he was getting out of the crowd?” demanded Lige, staring angrily at the clerk.
“That’s what ought to be done,” persisted the other stubbornly, looking defiantly around at those gathered there. “If he’s able to prove his innocence, no harm will be done.”
“No harm!” echoed Lige. “Mebbe you’d like to have your boy arrested for somethin’ he never done and locked up for hours in the cooler, while they were chasin’ after the real thief? How do you think you’d feel to have everybody pointin’ at him and saying he’d been accused of stealing and the police had arrested him on suspicion? It’s a shame, that’s what. Why, Benjy never stole a cent in all his life! Have me taken up if you want to. I’ve done heaps of tough things, and everybody knows it. But don’t you dare put it on my brother, or——”
Lige was growing more and more furious. There is no telling what sort of dire threat he might have made toward Mr. Garrison, only that just then he felt some one pluck him by the sleeve and heard Hugh Hardin saying:
“Hold on, Lige. Don’t finish that sentence, will you? There’s no need of having Benjy arrested. It’s an outrage, and every one here will stand back of me when I say that, no matter what Mr. Garrison thinks. He’s excited now, and hardly knows what he’s doing. Besides, I want the Chief to understand that I saw just how that watch got in Benjy’s pocket!”
A faint cheer broke from the triple circle of spectators. It could be plainly seen that all their sympathies lay with the white-faced little cripple. In Lige they had small confidence, but Benjy Corbley had long been an object of more or less consideration, for it was understood that his chances of ever living to grow up to manhood were comparatively zero.
The clerk turned on Hugh. His manner changed more or less, because he realized that he had a different customer to handle in the young assistant scout master. Lige Corbley and Hugh Hardin were quite opposite in reputation. The one was as much respected as the other was looked upon with suspicion. Lige had been the cause of considerable excitement in the town, and was even then considered as responsible for the outrage at the mayor’s place of residence.