Airship Andy: or, The Luck of a Brave Boy

CHAPTER XV – BEHIND THE BARS

Andy stopped running at the loud alarm from the automobile. Several persons started to block his course and one man caught him by the coat sleeve. Andy recognized his pursuer at once. It was Seth Talbot.

The Princeville garage owner ran his car up to the curb and jumped out. His face was red with exertion and excitement, and he grasped Andy roughly by the arm.

“What’s the trouble?” queried the man who had detained Andy.

“Escaped criminal – firebug,” mumbled Talbot. “In with you,” and he forced Andy into the machine. “Hey, officer, take charge of this prisoner.”

Talbot hailed a man in uniform pressing his way through the gathering crowd.

“What is he charged with?” inquired the officer.

“Burning a barn at Princeville. Get him to the station and I’ll explain to your chief.”

There was no chance for Andy to expostulate or struggle. The officer held him tightly by one wrist, while Talbot whisked them away till they reached a police station.

Here the garage owner drew the officer in charge to one side. They held a brief consultation. Andy caught a word here and there. It was sufficient to apprise him of the fact that there was a reward offered for his arrest, and Talbot was agreeing to divide it with the officer if he would take charge of Andy till he was delivered over to the authorities at Princeville.

“You are in charge of the law now, young man,” said the officer, leading Andy back to the automobile. “I won’t shackle you, but don’t try any tricks.”

He and Andy occupied the rear seat in the automobile, while Talbot drove the machine.

“May I say something to you?” inquired Andy of the officer.

“About what?” asked the officer.

“My being arrested this way. I don’t see what right Mr. Talbot has to chase me and give orders about me like some condemned felon. I haven’t seen any warrant for my arrest.”

“You’ll see it soon enough. Meanwhile don’t say anything to incriminate yourself,” returned the officer, glibly using the pet phrase of his calling.

“I’ve done nothing to be incriminated,” declared Andy indignantly. “What I wanted to ask was the simple favor of getting word to some people here in Greenville, who have sent me on an errand, and will be put out and disappointed if I don’t show up.”

“What people?” quizzed Talbot, overhearing Andy and half turning around in his seat.

“A firm of lawyers here – ” began Andy.

“Yah!” derided the garage owner. “Guessed it was something of that sort. Want to tangle up this affair with some legal quibble! Officer, you just hold on to him tight. He’s a slippery fellow.”

Andy saw that it would be useless to appeal to either of his companions in the automobile, and put in his time doing some pretty serious thinking as the machine sped over the landscape.

“This is a bad fix at a bad time,” reflected Andy. “The lawyer will expect me back as I promised, and think all kinds of things about me because I don’t come. And there’s Mr. Parks. And the race. I mustn’t miss that! But then, I am arrested. They’ll lock me up. Suppose they really prove I fired that barn?” Andy’s heart beat painfully with dread and suspense.

The town hall at Princeville was reached. Andy had been in the main offices of the structure many times, but this was his first visit to the lower floor of the building where the prisoners were kept. He only casually knew the deputy sheriff in charge of the barred cage, and who looked Andy over as he would any criminal brought to him to lock up.

“This is Andy Nelson – Jones’ barn – ran away – reward.” Andy was somewhat chilled as the deputy nodded and proceeded to enter his name in a big book before him on the desk.

“Search him,” said the official to the turnkey.

“Hello!” ejaculated Talbot, as Andy’s watch was brought into view, and “hello!” he repeated with eyes goggling still more, as Andy’s pocketbook came to light, and outside of some small bills and silver, a neatly-folded bill was produced.

The officer himself looked surprised at this. Andy, however, did not tell them that this represented the prize he had won at the aviation meet, treasured proudly in its entirety.

“Wonder if that’s some of the money I’ve found short in my business?” insinuated Talbot.

“If there is any shortage in your receipts,” retorted Andy indignantly, “you had better ask your son about it.”

The shot told. The garage owner flushed up.

“What’s that?” he covered his evident confusion by asking, as the officer unfolded a slip of printed paper.

It was the advertisement about the lost leather pocketbook, that Andy had preserved. Glancing over the shoulder of the officer and taking in its purport, Talbot gave a start. Then he eyed Andy in an eager, speculative way, but was silent.

“What are you going to do with me?” Andy asked of the officer.

“Lock you up, of course.”

“Won’t I be allowed to send word to my friends?”

“Who are they?” demanded the officer.

“I think Mr. Dawson, the banker, is one of them,” replied Andy.

“Mr. Dawson has been away from town for a week, and will not return for two.”

Andy’s face fell. The thought of the banker had come to him hopefully.

“Can I telegraph, then?” he asked, “to friends out of town?”

“Telegraph,” sneered Talbot. “My great pumpkins, with your new suit of clothes and watch and one hundred dollar bills and telegrams!”

“I can grant you no favors before I have notified the prosecuting attorney of your arrest,” said the deputy. “Lock him up, turnkey.”

All this seemed very harsh and ominous to Andy, but he did not allow it to depress him. He followed the turnkey without another word. The latter unlocked a great barred door, and Andy felt a trifle chilled as it reclosed on him and he was a prisoner.

“How do you do, Mr. Chase?” he said, as he recognized the lockup-keeper, an old grizzled man, who limped towards him.

“Got you, did they?” spoke the man. “Sorry, Andy.”

“Yes, I am sorry, too, just at this time. Of course you know, I’m not the kind of a fellow to burn down a man’s barn.”

“Know it – guess I know. I can prove – ” began Chase, so excitedly, that Andy stared at him in some wonder. “See here,” continued Chase, controlling himself, “I’ve got something to say to you later on. Just for the present, you count on me as your friend. I’ll see you get the best going in this dismal place.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chase,” said Andy.

“You needn’t sleep in any cell. I’ll let you have a cot in my room,” continued Chase with earnestness and emotion. “Andy – ” and there the speaker choked up, and he grasped Andy’s hand, and turning away trembled all over. “You’re a blessed good boy, and you’ve got a true friend in me, and remember what I tell you – they will never find you guilty of burning down Jones’ barn.”

Andy returned the pressure of the hand of the man whom he was meeting under peculiar circumstances, feeling sure that his avowed friendship was genuine. He had good reason to believe this.

When Andy had come to Princeville, Chase was a worthless drunkard, who worked rarely and who was in the lockup most of the time. One winter’s night, as Andy was returning from taking a customer to the lake, he lined a swampy stretch and noticed a huddled-up figure lying at its half-frozen edge.

Andy got out of the automobile and discovered a man, his body and clothes half frozen down into the reeds and grass. It was Chase, sodden with drink and fast perishing.

Andy managed to get the poor fellow in the tonneau and drove home. It was late, and Talbot had left the garage for the night. Andy dragged his helpless guest into his little den of a room and hurried for a doctor. He was a favorite with the physician, for whom he had done many little favors, and the latter worked over the half-frozen Chase for nearly two hours. He refused to think of taking any pay, and at Andy’s request promised to say nothing about the incident.

Andy kept his little oil stove going all night and plied the patient with warm drinks. When morning came Chase was awake and sober, but he was so weak and full of pain he could hardly move.

All that day and into the next Andy managed to house and care for Chase without detection. Talbot finally discovered the intruder, however. He stormed fearfully. He was for at once sending for an officer and having Chase sent to jail or the workhouse.

Andy pleaded hard for the poor refugee. Talbot declared that his wet garments had spoiled the automobile cushions. Andy got Chase to agree that he would work this out when he got well, and Talbot was partly mollified.

When Chase got about he did some drudgery at Talbot’s home. Then one day he came to tell Andy that Talbot had got him a position. Chase was well acquainted with prison ways. Talbot had quite some political influence, and the forlorn old wreck was installed as lockup-keeper at the town jail.

Once a week regularly he came to visit Andy at the garage. It was usually Saturday nights, after the others had gone home. Chase would bring along some dainty for Andy to cook, and they would have quite a congenial time. During all this time Chase never touched a drop of liquor. He told Andy he had received the lesson of his life, leaving him crippled in one limb, and that he would show Andy his gratitude for his rescue by keeping the pledge.

“Mr. Chase,” now said Andy, “there is something you can do for me, if you will.”

“Speak it out, Andy,” responded the lockup keeper eagerly.

“I want to send a telegram to a friend right away. They have taken all my money from me, but the message can go collect.”

Chase hobbled down the corridor rapidly to return with paper and pencil.

“Write out your message, Andy,” he said. “I’ll see that it goes without delay.”

Andy wrote out a telegram to John Parks. It ran:

“Under arrest on a false charge. I want to see you on important business.”

Chase took the message, put on his hat, and going to the barred door tapped on it.

The turnkey appeared and unlocked the door. As Chase passed out, Andy observed that someone passed into the cell room. It was Seth Talbot.

“I want a little talk with you, Andy Nelson,” spoke the garage owner, “and it will pay you to listen to what I have to say.”

CHAPTER XVI – BAIL WANTED

The garage owner moved a few feet away from the grated door of the cell room and sat down on a bench. He beckoned to Andy.

“No, I’ll stand up,” said our hero.

“All right, I won’t be long. Short and sweet is my motto. To begin with, Andy Nelson, I’ve been a second father to you.”

“I never knew it,” observed the boy.

“Don’t get saucy,” replied Talbot. “It don’t show the right spirit. I gave you a job when you didn’t have any, and took on myself a big responsibility – agreeing to look after you like a regular apprentice. What is the result? Ingratitude.”

Andy was silent, but he looked at Talbot, marveling that the man, mean as he was, could imagine that he meant what he said.

“You’ve brought me lots of trouble,” pursued Talbot in an aggrieved tone. “The worst of all is that it’s led to my son running away from home.”

The speaker evidently thought that Andy knew all about this, while in reality Andy only guessed it.

“Oh, I’m responsible for that, too, am I?” observed Andy.

“Yes, you are. You left me in the lurch, and while Gus was off with a customer some one robbed the money drawer. I was mad and accused Gus of taking it. Gus got mad and left home.”

“What did I have to do with that?”

“Why, if you’d stayed where you belonged it wouldn’t have happened, would it?”

Andy actually laughed outright at this strange reasoning.

“What!” he cried. “Me, the firebug, me, the thief you accuse me of being!”

“Well, anyhow, you’ve been a lot of expense and trouble to me. Now you’re in a hard fix. You are dead sure to go to the reformatory until you are twenty-one years of age, unless some one steps in and saves you.”

“You think so, do you, Mr. Talbot?”

“I am certain of it.”

“Who’s going to step in and save me?” inquired Andy innocently.

“I’m the only man who can.”

“Oh!”

“And I will, if you’re willing to do your share.”

“What is my share?” demanded Andy.

“Doing what I advise you. I’m a man of influence and power in this community,” boasted the garage owner. “I can fix up this business all right with Jones. You’ve got to help, though.”

“All right, name your terms,” said Andy.

“I wouldn’t put it ‘terms,’ Andy,” replied Talbot, looking eager and insinuating, “call it rights. There’s that two hundred dollars at the bank. It was found on my property by one of my hired employees. Good, that gives me legal possession according to law.”

“Does it?” nodded Andy. “I didn’t know that before.”

“You can get that money by going after it,” continued Talbot.

“How can I?”

“Why, that advertisement they found in your pocket says so, don’t it? See here, Andy,” and Talbot looked so mean and greedy that our hero could hardly keep from shuddering with disgust, “tell me about that advertisement – all about it, I want to be a good friend to you. I am a shrewd business man, and you’re only a boy. They’ll chisel you out of it, if you don’t have some older person to stand by you. I’ll stand by you, Andy.”

“Chisel me out of what?” inquired Andy, intent on drawing out his specious counsellor to the limit.

“What’s your due. They’re after the pocketbook that held the two hundred dollars. Don’t you see they’re breaking their necks to get it back? Why? aha!”

“That’s so,” murmured Andy, as if it were all news to him.

“So, if you know what became of that pocketbook – ”

“Yes,” nodded Andy.

“And where it is – ”

“I do,” declared Andy.

“Capital!” cried Talbot, getting excited. “Then we’ve got them. Ha! Ha! They can’t squirm away from us. Where’s the pocketbook, Andy? You just hand this business right over to me. I’ll do the negotiating.”

“And if I do?” insinuated Andy.

“You won’t be prosecuted on this firebug charge. I’ll take you back at the garage and raise your salary.”

“How much?” inquired Andy.

“Well – I’ll be liberal. I’ll raise your wages twenty-five cents a week.”

“Mr. Talbot, if you made it twenty-five dollars I wouldn’t touch it, no, nor twenty-five hundred dollars. You talk about your goodness to me. Why, you treated me like a slave. As to the two hundred dollars, it stays right where it is until its rightful owner claims it. If he then wants to give it to me as a reward, you can make up your mind you won’t get a cent of it.”

“You young reprobate!” shouted Talbot, jumping to his feet, aflame with rage. “I’ll make you sing another tune soon. It rests with me as to your staying in jail. I’ll just go and see those lawyers myself.”

“You will waste your time,” declared Andy. “I have told them all about you from beginning to end, and they’re too smart to play into any of your dodges.”

“We’ll see! We’ll see!” fumed the garage owner, as he went to the cell-room door and shook it to attract the attention of the turnkey. “I’ll see you once more – just once more, mind you, and that’s to-morrow morning. You’ll decide then, or you’ll have a hard run of it.”

Andy was left to himself. He walked around the stout cell room with some curiosity. There were two other prisoners in jail. Both were locked up in cells. One of them asked Andy for a drink of water. The other was asleep on his cot.

A clang at the barred door attracted Andy’s attention again, and he reached it as the turnkey shouted out in a tone that sounded very official:

“Andrew Nelson!”

He stood aside for Andy to step out. An officer Andy had not seen before took him by the arm and led him up two flights of stairs to a large courtroom.

It had no visitors, but the judge sat on the bench. Near him was the prosecuting attorney and the court clerk. Talbot occupied a chair, and conversing with him was Farmer Jones.

“We enter the appearance of the prisoner in this case, your honor,” immediately spoke the attorney, as if in a hurry to get through with the formalities.

“Let the clerk enter the same,” ordered the judge in an indifferent tone. “Take the prisoner before the grand jury when it convenes.”

“In the matter of bail – ” again spoke the attorney.

“Arson. A pretty serious offense,” said the judge. “The prisoner is held over in bonds of two thousand dollars.”

Andy’s heart sank. He had heard and read of cases where generally a few hundred dollars bail was asked. He had even calculated in his mind how he could call friends to his assistance who would go his surety for a small amount, but two thousand dollars.

“How are you, Andy?” said Jones, advancing and looking him over critically. Andy was a trifle pale, but his bearing was manly, his countenance open and honest. He was neatly dressed, and looked the energetic business boy all over, and evidently impressed the farmer that way.

“I’m glad to see you, Mr. Jones,” he said respectfully.

“I suppose you feel a little hard agin’ me, Andy, but I couldn’t help it. That barn cost me eight hundred dollars.”

“It was a serious loss, yes, sir,” said Andy, “and I am sorry for you.”

Jones fidgeted. Talbot was talking to the attorney, and the farmer seemed glad to get away from his company.

“See here, Andy,” he said, edging a little nearer, “I’ve got boys of my own, and it makes me feel badly to see you in this fix.”

“What did you place me here for, then?” demanded Andy.

“I – I thought – you see, Talbot had the evidence. He egged me on, so to speak. Honest and true, Andy, did you set fire to my barn?”

“Honest and true, Mr. Jones, I had no hand in it. Why should I? You have always been pleasant and good to me.”

“Why, you see, I stopped you running away from Talbot that day.”

“And you think I turned firebug out of spite? Oh, Mr. Jones!”

“H’m – see here, judge,” and Jones moved up to the desk. “I don’t know that I care to prosecute this case.”

“Out of your hands, Mr. Jones,” snapped the prosecuting attorney sharply. “The case must go to the grand jury.”

“Andy – I – I’ll come and see you,” said Jones, as the officer marched Andy back to the jail room.

“Two thousand dollars bail,” ruminated Andy, once again under lock and key. “I can never hope to find anybody to get me out. Too bad – I’m out of the airship race for good.”

CHAPTER XVII – A TRUE FRIEND

“All right, Andy.”

“Did you send the telegram?”

“Yes, and paid for it, so there would be no delay.”

“You needn’t have done that.”

“I wanted to be sure that it went double rush.”

“All right, I will settle with you when they give me back my money.”

Chase, the lockup-keeper, had promptly and willingly attended to the errand upon which Andy had sent him.

“See here, Andy,” said Chase, “I understand they had you up in court.”

“Yes,” answered Andy, “they took me up to fix the bail.”

“How much?”

“Two thousand dollars.”

“Why!” exclaimed Chase, his face darkening, “that’s an outrage.”

“I think so, too.”

“There’s something behind it,” muttered the lockup-keeper.

“Yes,” returned Andy. “Mr. Talbot is behind it. He seems to stand in with the prosecuting attorney. Mr. Jones was quite willing to drop the case, and said that Mr. Talbot had egged him on.”

Chase did not say any more just then, but as he strolled away, he muttered to himself in an excited manner. He busied himself about the place for the next hour. Then he showed Andy his own sleeping quarters, a quite comfortable, well-ventilated room, and set up an extra cot in it.

“You and I will have our meal in my room after I feed the other prisoners,” he said. “I’ll make it as easy for you as I can, Andy.”

“I know you will, Mr. Chase,” responded Andy heartily.

“I’ll do a good deal for you,” declared the faithful old fellow. “What do I care for this mean old job, anyway? Say,” and he dropped his voice to a cautious whisper, “suppose there was a way for both of us to get out of here?”

“What do you mean?” queried Andy quickly.

“Just what I say. Suppose you and I could get to some place a long way off, where they couldn’t trace us, could you get me another job, do you think?”

“Don’t you like this one?”

“No, I don’t. I despise it. I have to give Talbot half of my salary for getting it for me, and I’m tired of the jail.”

“Do you mean to tell me that Talbot takes one half of your salary?” questioned Andy indignantly.

“I do.”

“Then he’s a meaner man than I thought he was. I can get you a much better job when I get free,” said Andy, “and I’ll do it, but you mustn’t think of such nonsense as my escaping.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a sticker, and never ran away like a sneak in my life,” declared Andy strenuously. “No, I’m going to face the music like a man.”

Chase was silent for a while. Finally, evidently struggling with some new disturbing thought, he said:

“Sure you can get me a job, Andy?”

“I am.”

“If I cut loose from here and make Talbot an enemy for life, you’ll see to it that I get work?”

“As long as you keep sober, Mr. Chase, you can always get a position. You have made a brave start. Now brace up, think something of yourself, and earn a comfortable living.”

“I’ll do it!” cried Chase. “I’ll risk everything. Andy, you didn’t fire that barn. Do you know who did?”

“I have a suspicion,” replied Andy.

“If I guess right who you suspect, will you nod your head?”

“Yes.”

“It was Gus Talbot and Dale Billings.”

Andy nodded his head. He started slightly as he did so, wondering at the sturdy declaration of Chase. Then he asked:

“Why do you think so, Mr. Chase?”

“I don’t think, I know,” declared the lockup-keeper.

“Did you see them do it?”

“No, I didn’t, but – see here, Andy, I’ve nothing more to say.”

“Why not?”

“I want to find an old tramp named Wandering Dick, before I go any farther.”

“Does he know?”

“I’ll not say another word except this: they’ll never prove you a firebug, and old Talbot will be sorry for the day he stirred things up and started out to persecute an honest boy. Drat the varmint! I’ll be afraid of him no longer, Andy, you are a good friend.”

“I try to be, Mr. Chase.”

“I’ll prove that I am to you.”

Chase refused to say another word. Andy curiously watched him stump around attending to his duties. The old fellow would scowl and mutter, and Andy believed he was mentally discussing Talbot. Then he would chuckle, and Andy decided he was thinking something pleasant about himself.

Chase appeared to have entire charge of the cell room. At five o’clock in the afternoon he let the other prisoners out in the corridor for exercise, and at six o’clock he gave them their supper in their cells. Then he and Andy adjourned to the little room beyond the cells and had a hearty, appetizing meal.

Chase supplied Andy with some newspapers, and later they played a game of checkers. About nine o’clock a prisoner was brought in and locked up.

At ten o’clock, just as Andy was going to bed, the turnkey’s ponderous key rattled at the barred door, and again his voice rang out:

“Andrew Nelson!”

“Wonder who wants me now?” said Andy.

“Somebody to see you in the sheriff’s room,” said the turnkey, “follow me.”