Part 23 (1/2)

”What did you tell your ma, Davy, when you got home?”

”I told her he followed me.”

”Did you tell her whose dog he was?”

”No, sir.”

”Ain't that what you ought to have done? Ain't it?”

Davy hesitated. ”Yes, sir.”

There was a slight shuffling movement among the men crowded about.

Somebody cleared his throat. Mr. Kirby resumed:

”This block you been tellin' about--how was it fastened to the dog?”

”There was a chain fastened to the block by a staple. The other end was fastened to the collar.”

”How heavy do you think that block was?”

”About ten pound, I reckon.”

”Five,” broke in Old Man Th.o.r.n.ycroft with a sneer.

Mr. Kirby turned to him. ”You fetched it with you, didn't you? I told you to. It's evidence. Bob Kelley, go out to Mr. Th.o.r.n.ycroft's buggy an'

bring that block of wood into court.”

The room was silent while the rural policeman was gone. Davy still stood in the cleared s.p.a.ce before Mr. Kirby, his ragged overcoat on, his tattered hat in his hand, breathing fast, afraid to look at his mother.

Everybody turned when Kelley came in with the block of wood. Everybody craned their necks to watch while, at the magistrate's order, Kelley weighed the block of wood on the store scales, which he put on the magistrate's table.

”Fo'teen punds,” said Mr. Kirby. ”Take the scales away.”

”It had rubbed all the skin off'n the dog's neck,” broke in Davy impulsively. ”It was all raw an' bleedin'.”

”Aw, that ain't so!” cried Th.o.r.n.ycroft.

”Is the dog out there?” asked Mr. Kirby.

”Yes, sir, under the buggy.”

”Bob Kelley, you go out an' bring that dog into court.”

The rural policeman went out, and came back with the hound, who looked eagerly up from one face to the other, then, seeing Davy, came to him and stood against him, still looking around with that expression of melancholy on his face that a hound dog always wears except when he is in action.

”Bring the dog here, son!” commanded Mr. Kirby. He examined the raw place on the neck. ”Any of you gentlemen care to take a look?” he asked.

”It was worse'n that,” declared Davy, ”till I rubbed vase-leen on it.”

Old Man Th.o.r.n.ycroft pushed forward, face quivering. ”What's all this got to do with that boy stealin' that dog?” he demanded. ”That's what I want to know--what's it got to do?”

”Mr. Th.o.r.n.ycroft,” said Kirby, ”at nine o'clock this mornin' this place ceased to be Tom Belcher's sto', an' become a court of justice. Some things are seemly in a court, some not. You stand back there!”

The old man stepped back to the counter, and stood pulling his chin, his eyes running over the crowd of faces.