The Grammar School Boys of Gridley | Page 8

street row is hardly a hanging offense. If it were, there'd be a lot of fellows missing from the Central Grammar School."
"So we're called in to help decide the case?" asked Greg, puffing up.
"Oh, get busy with some brains!" scoffed Dick airily. "We haven't anything to do with deciding the case. That's what the judge is paid for. But we're wanted just to tell what we know. Say, you fellows, be careful you don't get so rattled that you try to tell a lot of things that you don't know."
In due time they reached the court building. Grown suddenly very quiet and almost scared, these six thirteen-year-old boys filed upstairs. A policeman stood before the door of the courtroom.
"May we go in?" whispered Dick.
"Of course," nodded the policeman. "Take your hats off."
The officer conducted the sextette of young witnesses inside, past a group or two of loungers who made up the usual police-court audience, and thence on before the bench.
At one side, at this end of the room, sat Dexter and Driggs. Right in front of the clerk of the court were seated Mrs. Dexter and a lawyer. Officer Whalen lounged near the two prisoners.
"These are the lads, your honor," nodded Policeman Whalen, after giving Dick & Co. a keen looking over.
"Swear them, Mr. Clerk," said the Justice.
Solemnly the six youngsters held up their right hands and took the oath. Then Justice Lee began to question them. From Dick, first, he drew out the story of the dispute in the street. Then the others told the same story.
"Why did you boys interfere?" asked the justice of Prescott.
"Because, sir," Dick answered, "we didn't want to see a woman ill-treated on the street."
"A very good reason," nodded Justice Lee approvingly. "But weren't you afraid of Driggs, here, who is really a police officer?"
"No, sir; I didn't believe that a police officer had any more right than any one else to break the law."
"You boys have acted very sensibly," nodded Justice Lee. "Dexter, do you wish to question any of these young witnesses?"
Dexter shook his head, scowling.
"Do you, Driggs?"
"No, your honor. 'Twouldn't be any use."
"You're right about that, I imagine," nodded the justice. "Boys, the court wishes to express its pleasure over your good sense, and to praise you for your chivalry and courage. You did just right--as the court hopes you will always do under similar circumstances. Dexter, stand up. Driggs, also."
The two prisoners arose, sullen enough in their appearance.
"Dexter, you have been guilty of disturbing the peace. I do not believe a mere fine sufficient in your case. I therefore sentence you to serve thirty days in jail. Driggs, your primary offense was about as great as Dexter's, but your offense is worse, for you are a police officer, and you tried to throw the strength of your position around the acts of the prisoner. The court therefore sentences you to sixty days in jail."
"We both wish to appeal, your honor," cried Dexter, his face aflame.
"Dexter's bail will then be fixed at two hundred dollars; Driggs's at four hundred dollars. Are you prepared to furnish bail?"
"I will furnish the cash for both of us," announced Abner Dexter, drawing a roll of banknotes from a pocket.
Mrs. Dexter and her lawyer filed out while this matter was being arranged with the clerk of the court. Dick and his friends, at a sign from the court, left the room as soon as they had received their fees as witnesses.
"So he pays the money, Dexter does, and walks out?" grunted Dan Dalzell.
"Oh, no," Dick answered. "Dexter and his friend have to be tried over again in a higher court. That money is just their forfeit in case they don't show up for trial."
"They won't," predicted Greg.
"I don't know," murmured Dick. "Six hundred dollars would be a lot of money to lose."
By hastening, the Grammar School boys were back in school for the last hour of the session.
CHAPTER III
FOOTBALL--WITHOUT RULES
School was out for the day. Three quarters of the boys belonging to the four upper grades made a bee line for a field about a block away. The magnet was a football that Dave Darrin proudly carried tucked under his left arm.
"I wanter play!"
"Let me try just one good kick with it, Dave!"
"Take a stroll," advised Darrin laconically. "How can I blow up the ball and talk to you fellows, too?"
"Hurry up, then. We want to give the ball a fierce old kick."
"No kids in this," announced Dave, rather loftily. "Only fellows in the eighth and seventh grades. Fellows in the grades below the seventh are only kids and would get hurt."
"Oh, say!"
"That isn't fair!"
The protests were many and vigorous from sixth and fifth-grade boys, but Darrin, ignoring them all, went placidly on inflating the pigskin. At last the task was completed.
"Hurrah! Now, Dave, give it