Bob Chesters Grit | Page 4

the policeman, he said:
"You did right in bringing along the boy, McCarty. He is evidently one
of the gang, or he wouldn't have been passing along the street just as he
was. We may be able to learn from him who the 'con' men are, and
where they hang out. Search him, and then take him back to a cell. I'll
send a couple of plain-clothes men in to talk with him."
And grabbing Bob by the arm, the policeman dragged him toward the
door which led to a cell.
CHAPTER II
BOB FINDS AN UNEXPECTED CHAMPION
Among those who had heard the story of the swindling of the
countryman were several reporters for the great metropolitan afternoon
papers, and as the burly policeman dragged the pathetic figure of the
grocer's boy to the cell, one of these, a particularly clean-cut,
wide-awake young fellow, exclaimed:
"Sergeant, that's the rawest thing I ever saw you do. I don't believe that
boy knows anything more about those 'con' men, and probably not as

much, as you do. It's a shame to lock him up, and I am going to give
you the hottest roast for doing so that the paper will stand for."
"You do, and you'll never set foot inside this station while I'm in
charge," retorted the officer. "If you knew as much about old Dardus as
I do, you wouldn't be so keen to champion this boy. The old man has
been mixed up in many a questionable transaction, and I shouldn't be
surprised if it turned out that he was in league with these fellows who
got that country bumpkin's seven hundred and fifty dollars, and that he
put the boy up to playing the part he did."
"I don't know anything about Dardus," announced the reporter who had
taken up the cudgel in Bob's behalf, "and I don't care. If he is mixed up
in questionable dealings, that doesn't mean that the boy is necessarily a
party to them. You can't tell me that a chap, with a face as honest as
that boy has, is a criminal."
"When you've been doing police stations longer, Foster, you will learn
that you can't judge criminals by their faces," snarled the sergeant, and
as the other reporters heard this caustic comment, they laughed
uproariously.
"Laugh if you want to," returned Bob's champion, "but I am going to
prove the boy's innocence of any complicity in the swindle."
And without more ado, the reporter left the police station.
Although the representatives of the other papers had sided in with the
police official who announced his belief in Bob's guilt, they
nevertheless experienced a feeling of uneasiness, lest Foster might after
all be right, and they were holding consultation as to the advisability of
investigating the story more thoroughly, when the sergeant exclaimed:
"Don't let that fellow worry you. I've known Len Dardus for years. He's
as crooked as they make them, and he never had an honest man work
for him that I know of."
As the acceptance of the police official's theory would save them the

necessity of investigating the story further, the reporters agreed to
accept his version, and to accord with it they wrote their stories.
As Jack Foster left the police station, his anger at the system which
made it impossible for a person without influence or money to obtain
justice, was strong, and his heart went out to the boy, as he thought
how he would feel, were he himself in his place.
"If that boy isn't honest from the soles of his feet to the top of his head,
I shall be the most surprised man in New York," he said to himself,
"and if my paper has any influence, I am going to get him out of his
trouble."
Occupied with considering various plans for aiding Bob, Foster quickly
reached the store of Len Dardus, but as he entered and caught sight of
an old, gray-haired man, with a face in which craftiness was the chief
characteristic, he wondered if, after all, the police sergeant could have
been right.
"Is this Mr. Len Dardus?" asked Foster, walking up to the counter,
behind which this repelling creature stood.
"That's my name," snapped the proprietor of the store, adding as he
scrutinized his questioner closely:
"What do you want?"
"I want to know if you have a boy working for you by the name of Bob
Chester."
"I have, but I won't have after to-night, I can tell you. I have no use for
lazy boys, and for laziness he can't be beaten. Here I sent him to deliver
some goods more than two hours ago, and he hasn't got back yet, and
this is my busiest day."
So disagreeable was the tone in which the