Bob Chesters Grit | Page 7

I told you," shouted the sergeant.
And, suiting his action to his words, he gave orders for Bob to be
brought from his cell and taken to the police court.
Just as Bob appeared in the outer room of the station house, Foster
entered.
As he saw the boy whose cause he had espoused, the reporter
exclaimed:
"So you have decided to release him, have you, sergeant?"
"Release nothing," growled the official. "He's on his way to court," and
then, as he had read from the expression on Foster's face that his
mission to interview Len Dardus had not been altogether satisfactory,
he continued: "You found I was pretty near right about old Dardus,
didn't you?"
"He surely isn't a very agreeable person," answered the reporter, "and I
quite agree with you that if there was money enough in the undertaking,
he would never stop to question whether or not it was against the law.
But I tell you one thing, sergeant, you are dead wrong about the boy.
The old man actually hates him."
"Then it would be an easy way for him to get rid of the kid by getting
him into just this kind of a mess."
"Maybe you're right," assented Foster, as this theory was announced,
"still I don't believe you are. I am more convinced than ever that the
boy had nothing to do with the swindle, and I don't think old Dardus
did, either."
"Well, it won't help matters to keep arguing about it here. We'll let the
judge decide. McCarty, call a patrol wagon, and take the kid to court."
"Oh, I say! you are surely not going to make that kid ride in the patrol
wagon?" protested one of the other newspaper men. "That would be
rubbing it in too hard."

Emphatically the others added their protest, and in the face of such
opposition, the sergeant countermanded his order for the police wagon,
and instead instructed Patrolman McCarty to take the boy to court,
which was less than two blocks away.
Surrounded by the reporters, Bob and the patrolman walked down the
street, closely followed by the countryman, whose desire to make
money without working for it had led to the loss of the seven hundred
and fifty dollars.
Arrived at the building in which the court was located, Bob was led
away to the detention room, to await the calling of his case, while the
reporters and Simpkins made their way direct to the court room.
In due course the case was reached.
When the presiding magistrate caught sight of Bob's sad face, the stern
expression on his own countenance relaxed, and he bestowed upon the
trembling boy a glance full of encouragement.
Noting this, Foster, who had been watching the judge intently, was
inspired with the hope that the boy would be quickly discharged. But
his pleasure was only momentary, for, as the magistrate read the charge,
his face became even more austere than usual.
"Well, Chester, what have you to say for yourself?" demanded the
judge, directing a glance at the boy, as though he would pierce his very
soul. "Are you guilty, or not guilty?"
[Illustration: "WELL CHESTER, WHAT HAVE YOU TO SAY FOR
YOURSELF?" _Bob Chester's Grit_ Page 24]
The strangeness of the scene and lack of familiarity with the procedure
of a court caused Bob to remain silent.
Again the magistrate repeated his question, but still Bob made no reply.
"I think he wants to plead guilty," interposed one of the plain-clothes

men whom the sergeant had ordered to make a case against the boy.
"Perhaps if you offered to give him a light sentence if he would tell us
who the two men are who got away with the money, he would do so."
"How about that?" demanded the magistrate, again directing his gaze at
the boy.
But before Bob had a chance to reply, Foster exclaimed:
"He does not want to plead guilty, your honor. This whole business in
dragging this boy to court is an outrage. He had no more knowledge of
the fact that those men intended to, or were, swindling this man from
the country, than you have."
The tone in which the reporter spoke was one that could not fail to be
impressive, and after a moment's hesitation, the magistrate, who knew
Foster as a reporter and admired him for his manly fearlessness, asked:
"What do you know about the case?"
"I protest, your honor, that this man should not be allowed to interfere
with the case," said one of the plain-clothes officers. "He was not a
witness of the transaction. I think it would be more proper to hear
Simpkins' version of the affair."
"When I wish your advice, officer, I will ask for it," snapped the
magistrate, and turning again