Walter Sherwood's Probation

A week later Walter, on returning from a walk, found a middle-aged stranger in conversation with Professor Robinson.

The professor seemed a little embarrassed when Walter entered.

“I have some news for you, Walter,” he said. “I am afraid it will not be welcome to you.”

“Please let me hear it, professor,” said Walter.

“This gentleman is Nahum Snodgrass, of Chicago, who has been for some years a traveler for a large wholesale-drug-house.”

“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Snodgrass,” said Walter, politely.

Snodgrass, who was a thin, dry-looking man, nodded briefly.

“I have just sold out my business to him,” went on Professor Robinson, “and henceforth shall aim to live more easily and enjoy the presence of my family.”

“I congratulate you, professor,” said Walter. “I think you deserve a life of leisure.”

“Mr. Snodgrass is willing to take you into his employ, but he does not think he can afford to pay you as much as I did.”

“No,” said Snodgrass, clearing his throat, “I find that Professor Robinson has been foolishly liberal. The ten per cent. commission which he has paid you is simply—stu—pendous!”

Walter smiled.

“I have not been in the habit of taking that view of it,” he said.

“Perhaps not, but I do,” said Snodgrass, firmly. “You are a very young man, and ought not to expect much pay. I will give you two dollars a week and pay your traveling expenses.”

“I beg to decline your offer, Mr. Snodgrass,” said Walter, politely. “I have thought of changing my business before, but was unwilling to leave the professor. As we are strangers, I need have no further hesitation.”

“Young man,” said Snodgrass, “I think you are making a mistake. It will not be so easy getting another place as you suppose.”

“Perhaps not, but I can afford to live a few weeks without work.”

“Your savings will soon go”—Snodgrass knew nothing of Walter’s prize money—“and then what will you do?”

“Trust to luck,” answered Walter, lightly.

Nahum Snodgrass shook his head gloomily. He thought Walter a very foolish young man.

Had Walter lost his position two months earlier it would have been a serious matter to him, but now, with a capital of nearly a thousand dollars, he could afford to be independent. As he expressed it, he could afford to be idle for a few weeks. Still, he didn’t wish to remain unemployed for a long time. He felt happier when at work, but wished to secure some employment that would be congenial.

“Mr. Snodgrass,” said the professor, “I think you are making a mistake in not employing Walter Sherwood.”

Nahum Snodgrass shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t mean to pay away all my profits to an assistant,” he said.

“But you can’t get along alone very well.”

“I will try, unless I can find some one that will take what I am willing to pay.”

He finally succeeded in doing this. A young man of eighteen, employed in a drug-store in town, who was on the point of being discharged, agreed to take the position, and stepped into Walter’s place. To anticipate a little, he disappeared two weeks later, carrying with him fifty dollars belonging to his employer.

Walter stayed two days longer at the hotel, and then, sending his valise ahead to Burnton, twenty miles farther on, started to walk the distance. He was in a mountainous country, and the scenery was wild and attractive, so that he felt that this arrangement would prove agreeable to him. He provided himself with a stout staff and started at good speed. He had accomplished about eight miles, when he was overtaken by a shabbily dressed traveler riding on the back of a fine horse. The horseman slackened his pace when he reached Walter.

“Good morning, stranger!” he said.

“Good morning!” responded Walter, turning his head.

“I am glad to have company. It’s a lonesome stretch of road here.”

“Yes,” answered Walter, carelessly. “But there isn’t any danger, is there?”

“Well, there might be. A friend of mine was stabbed and robbed here three months since.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes; and though I haven’t much money with me, I shouldn’t like to be robbed of what I have.”

“It would be inconvenient.”

“Do you carry much money with you?” asked the other, in a careless tone.

Walter was not disposed to take a stranger into his confidence.

“Not much!” he responded.

“You are prudent. Are you armed?”

Walter drew out Dick Ranney’s revolver, which he still carried. The stranger eyed him respectfully.

“That’s a mighty handsome weapon,” he said. “Just let me look at it.”

Walter began to think he had fallen in with a highwayman again.

CHAPTER XXIX

WALTER BUYS A HORSE

“You can look at the pistol as I hold it,” said Walter, in response to the request recorded at the close of the preceding chapter.

“I say,” remarked the stranger suddenly, “don’t you want to buy a horse?”

“How much do you ask for the horse?” he inquired.

“I want to get her off my hands. Give me fifty dollars, and she’s yours.”

Walter had a pad in his satchel and a fountain pen in his pocket. He hastily wrote out the following form:

“In consideration of fifty dollars by me received, I give and transfer to Walter Sherwood my roan horse.” Here followed a brief description of the animal.

“Now put your name there, and I will hand you the money,” said Walter.

“Thank you, stranger! You’ve got a good bargain.”

“I agree to that,” said Walter.

“I suppose the horse is sound?” he said inquiringly.

“Sound as a die! Don’t you take no trouble about that. It goes to my heart to give her up. Good-by, old gal!”

Walter touched the horse lightly with his whip, and she bounded forward. After a few miles he reached a town of good size. Riding along the main street his attention was drawn to a printed notice in front of a store. It read thus:

“HORSE STOLEN!

“Stolen from the subscriber, on the evening of the twenty-fifth, a roan mare, eight years old and sixteen hands high, with a white mark between the eyes. Answers to the name of Bess. Whoever will return her to the subscriber, or give information that will lead to her recovery, will receive a suitable reward.

“COLONEL RICHARD OWEN, Shelby.”

A terrible suspicion entered Walter’s mind. He recognized the white mark. Then he called “Bess.” The mare half turned her head and whinnied.

CHAPTER XXX

WALTER FINDS HIMSELF IN A TIGHT PLACE

Walter had hardly time to consider what to do in the light of the discovery he had made before the matter was taken out of his hands.

“Young feller, you’d better get off that hoss!” fell on his ears in a rough voice.

He turned, and saw two stalwart men eyeing him suspiciously.

“Gentlemen,” said Walter earnestly, “till I read this notice I had no idea that the horse was stolen.”

“That’s neither here nor there. You’d better get off the hoss.”

Walter felt that this was a command, and obeyed at once.

“Very well, gentlemen,” he said. “I will leave the horse in your hands, and depend upon you to return it to the owner.”

As Walter spoke he turned to walk off, but the man who had first accosted him got in his way.

“I don’t want to have any trouble with you, sir. Please get out of my way, and let me go.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“What do you propose to do with me?”

“Take you to the lockup.”

Walter was now really alarmed.

“You’ll have to go with us, young feller!” said Crane.

“And leave the hoss?” asked Penton. “We’d ought to take charge of it, and get the reward.”

“That’s so, Penton. You go and get a constable. We’ll stand by the hoss.”

Penton hurried off, and returned shortly with a constable in uniform.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“This young feller’s rid into town with Colonel Richard Owen’s hoss.”

“But I’d ought to secure the hoss,” said the constable, who felt that perhaps he might be entitled to the reward offered.

“Look here, Cyrus Stokes, you secure the thief—that’s your lookout.”

“Gentlemen,” said Walter, “I object to being called a thief. I have already told you I did not steal the horse.”

The constable seized Walter by the arm and walked off with him. To add to his mortification, people whom they met on the street looked at him curiously.

CHAPTER XXXI

IN THE LOCKUP

The lockup was a basement room under the engine-house. There were four cells, about four by eight, and into one of these Walter was put. The cell opposite was occupied by a drunken tramp, who looked up stupidly as Walter entered, and hiccoughed: “Glad to see you sonny.”

“And I must stay in here overnight—with that man?”

“Hoss-stealers mustn’t be particular,” said the constable.

“Can you tell me where Colonel Owen lives—the man that owns the horse?”

“You ought to know that!”

“Is there any lawyer in this village?”

“Yes, there’s two, an old man and a young one.”

“I should like to see one of them. Can you ask one of them to come here?”

“It’s a leetle out of my way,” suggested Constable Stokes.

The constable pocketed with alacrity the half-dollar our hero tendered him, and said briskly. “I’ll send him right off.”

“I shay,” interjected the tramp, “send me a lawyer, too.”

“The same man will do for you,” replied the constable. “A lawyer won’t do you no good, though.”

“We’re victims of tyrannical ‘pression!” said the tramp gloomily. “What are you in for, young feller?”

“I’m charged with stealing a horse.”

“Smart boy!” said the tramp admiringly. “I didn’t think you was up to hoss-stealin’.”

“I am not. The charge is false.”

“That’s right! Stick to it! Deny everything. That’s what I do.” Half an hour later the outer door was opened and the constable reappeared, followed by a young man of about thirty.

“This is Mr. Barry, the lawyer,” he said. “Mr. Barry, here is the key. You can keep it and let yourself out if you will be responsible for the safe custody of the prisoner.”

“Yes, Mr. Stokes, I will give you my word that he shall not escape. Which is my client?”

“You don’t look like a criminal, certainly,” said the lawyer, with a rapid survey of his new client.

“I hope not.”

“But one can’t go by appearances wholly. As your lawyer, for I will undertake your case, I must ask you to trust me entirely, and give me your full confidence.

“First, let me ask your name.”

“Walter Sherwood.”

“It will now be necessary for you to tell me frankly whether you stole the horse or not.”

“Of course I did not,” answered Walter indignantly.

“You must excuse my asking the question. I did not believe you guilty, but it was necessary for me to know positively from your own lips. You must not be sensitive.”

“I have no right to be, but I find myself in a very trying position.”

“Of course, but I will try to get you out of it. Now, will you tell me in detail how the horse came into your possession?”

Walter told the story, and the lawyer listened attentively.

“Have you any proof of what you assert?” he asked, when Walter finished.

“There was no one present.”

“I suppose not. Did no papers pass between you and this man?”

“Oh, yes!” answered Walter quickly, and he drew out the receipt which he had drawn up and got Hank Wilson to sign.

“Come, this is very important!” said Mr. Barry cheerfully. “It is a very valuable confirmation of your story. Will you trust me with it?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Is there any suggestion you have to offer, Mr. Sherwood? Sometimes I find that my clients give me valuable assistance that way.”

“I wish you would telegraph to Colonel Owen to come here.”

“Probably he has been sent for, but if not I will request him to come. Do you know the colonel?”

“No, sir; I never heard his name till I read the advertisement. Do you know anything of him, Mr. Barry?”

“He is the owner of a large estate in Shelby, and is a thorough gentleman of the old school.”

“All the better! I would rather deal with such a man. Besides, by describing the man of whom I bought the horse I may put him in the way of capturing the real thief.”

“Well thought of. May I ask, Mr. Sherwood, if you are from this part of the country?”

“No; I am a native of New York State.

“A year ago I was a member of the sophomore class of Euclid College.”

“That is strange!” ejaculated Barry. “What is strange?”

“Colonel Owen, the owner of the horse, is an old graduate of the same institution.”

“Is it possible?” exclaimed Walter, in genuine amazement.

“It is quite true. I am glad to have made the discovery. It will prepossess him in your favor, and this, I need hardly say, will be a great point gained. Well, I believe I have obtained all the data I require, and I will now go home and think over your case. I wish I could take you with me.”

“I wish you could; I hate to be left in such a place.”

“Cheer up, Mr. Sherwood. It won’t be for long, I predict. You may rest assured of my best efforts in your behalf. I will at once telegraph for Colonel Owen.”

The evening glided wearily away. Walter threw himself on his pallet and was nearly asleep when a confused noise was heard outside, and heavy blows were rained upon the outer door.

“What does it mean?” asked Walter, bewildered.

He listened intently, and there came to his ears a shout which made him turn pale with terror.

CHAPTER XXXII

AN AWFUL MOMENT

“Bring out the hoss thief! Lynch him! Lynch him!”

“What’s up?” asked the tramp drowsily, opening his eyes.

“Bring out the hoss thief!” cried a dozen rough voices, as the battering at the door was repeated.

“They want you, young feller!” he continued, as he caught the meaning of the cry.

“What shall we do?” asked Walter helplessly.

“They don’t want me,” returned the tramp complacently. “It’s you they want!”

“You will stand by me?” implored Walter, eager for any help.

“Won’t do no good! There’s a crowd of them. You’re in a bad box, young feller!”

“Have you got a pistol?”

“No.”

Then it flashed upon Walter that he still had the revolver which belonged to Dick Ranney.

“I will sell my life dearly!” thought Walter, “They shan’t kill me without some resistance.”

“Open the door, or it’ll be wuss for ye!” cried a rough voice.

The door was strong, but it did not long withstand the fierce attacks made upon it. Walter, by the light that came in through a crevice, saw it sway and gradually yield to the impetuous attacks of the mob.

“Here’s the hoss thief!” exclaimed the leader, throwing the light into the cell occupied by the inebriate.

The tramp was alarmed and completely sobered by the terrible suggestion.

“I ain’t the man!” he said. “It’s that young feller yonder.”

The man with the lantern turned in the direction of the other cell.

“He’s only a kid!” he said doubtfully.

“All the same, he’s the hoss thief!” said the tramp earnestly.

“Is he telling the truth?” asked the leader, turning to the men who were just behind him.

“He looks most like the hoss thief!” said Dan Muggins. “The other’s a milk-and-water chap, just out of boardin’-school.”

“You’re right! Smash in the cage!”

CHAPTER XXXIII

WALTER SAVES ANOTHER’S LIFE

Meanwhile the feelings of Walter were hard to describe. He saw that perhaps his only chance of life lay in remaining quiet and letting the mistake remain uncorrected.

On the other hand, the poor wretch was as much entitled to life as he.

“He’s the hoss thief!” shrieked the tramp. “Ask him if he isn’t.”

The leader, who had him by the collar, paused, and the words of the captive seemed to make some impression on him.

“We don’t want to make no mistake,” he said. “Mebbe we might ask him.”

“You hear what this man says?”

“Yes,” answered Walter, in husky accents.

“Is it true? Are you the hoss thief?”

“No!”

And the poor tramp would have been dragged away, but Walter, his face pale, but resolute, held up his hand to secure attention.

“Listen!” he said. “I am not a horse thief, but I was put here charged with stealing the horse of Colonel Owen.”

“Just as I said, gentlemen,” chimed in the inebriate.

“Then we’ve got the wrong one!” said the leader. “Here, you can go!”

“We must have you!” went on the leader, approaching Walter’s cell.

“What do you want to do with me?” asked Walter, with sinking heart.

“String you up! That’s the way we serve hoss thieves!”

“Gentlemen!” said Walter, “you are making a terrible mistake.

“Didn’t you say just now you was the thief?”

“No; I said I was put in here charged with horse-stealing.”

An assault was made on the door of his cell, and within three minutes Walter was dragged out.

He began to speak, but was roughly ordered to shut up.

The line of march was resumed, and a quarter of a mile distant they passed through a gate and began the ascent of a hill, at the summit of which was a grove of tall trees. Walter shuddered and his heart sank within him, for he understood only too well what fate was in store for him.

CHAPTER XXXIV

A TERRIBLE ORDEAL

At the summit of the hill Walter’s captors came to a halt.

“Young man,” said the leader sternly, “your hours are numbered. Have you anything to say?”

“I have a good deal to say,” answered Walter, finding his voice and speaking indignantly. “Even if I were guilty, which I am not, you have no right to condemn me to death untried.”

One of the masked men, who had hitherto stood in the background, came forward, and in clear, ringing accents spoke:

“The lad says right. He has not been proved guilty, and I for one believe him innocent.”

“I thank God,” said Walter, “that there is one among you whose heart is not wholly hardened. I stand here a boy—barely eighteen years old. Is there no one among you who has a son of my age?”

“The boy is right,” said another in a deep voice. “Men, we are acting like cowards and brutes.”

“So say I!” a third man broke in, and he ranged himself beside the other two.

“This is all folly!” exclaimed the leader angrily. “You men are milksops and chicken-hearted.” Walter’s face flamed.

“Will you allow this?” he exclaimed, as the leader seized him by the collar and drew him to a tree.

“I won’t!” said the first man to pronounce in his favor. “Seth Pendleton, let go your hold!”

“Look out!” cried Pendleton fiercely, “or you may swing, too!”

“You hear what he says,” said Walter’s friend. “Why are you so hard on the boy?”

“Why am I so hard on horse thieves? I’ll tell you. Ten years ago I had a horse that was as dear to me as a brother. One morning I found the stable door open and the horse gone. I followed him, but I never recovered him.”

“Who stole him?”

“A man named Dick Ranney, who has since become a noted highwayman.”

This was astonishing news to Walter.

“Do you know where Dick Ranney is now?” he asked.

“I heard that he had been captured.”

“I am the one who captured him, and for this I received a reward of a thousand dollars!” answered Walter.

CHAPTER XXXV

THE EMPTY JAIL

Walter drew from his pocket a folded paper.

“Read that!” he said.

“MR. WALTER SHERWOOD:

“I have pleasure in sending you the reward for the capture of the noted criminal, Dick Ranney.

“MILES GRAY, Sheriff.”

“Shall I tell you the story?” asked Walter.

“Yes! Yes!” exclaimed more than one.

Walter gave an account of the affair in a clear, distinct manner.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Walter, as he concluded, “do you believe that I would stoop to steal a horse?”

There were shouts of “No! No!”

And Walter might have gone scot free had he chosen, but he did not choose.

“No, gentlemen,” he said, “take me back to the lockup.

“The door is broken!”

“That will make no difference with me. I prefer to stand trial and let my innocence be proved.”

“He’s a brave lad!” said more than one.

“I wish my John would turn out like him,” added one of Walter’s original supporters. “You shall go with me, and have the best bed in the house,” he continued.

Walter accepted this proposal with thanks.

Of all that had passed during the night Constable Stokes was blissfully unconscious. At an early hour he bent his steps toward the jail. When he saw the door broken he was astounded.

He felt it necessary to report what had happened to some magistrate. He had walked but a few steps when he met Mr. Barry, Walter’s lawyer.

“And how is my young client this morning, Stokes?” inquired the lawyer pleasantly.

“Blessed if I know! He’s bolted!”

“That is amazing! Let me see how it was done.”

“The door was broken from the outside!” he said, after a pause.

“Was it?”

“Of course it was.”

“Then you don’t think the men could have done it?”

CHAPTER XXXVI

COLONEL RICHARD OWEN

At this moment a boy of fifteen made his way from the street to the rear entrance. It was Arthur Waters, the son of a jeweler.

“Perhaps I can tell you something about it,” he said.

“Last night I heard a noise in the street, and, getting up, I went to the window. I saw a lot of men filing through the street, all wearing masks.”

“They must have been in search of the prisoners to lynch them!” said the lawyer, turning pale.

“And you think they broke open the doors, Mr. Barry?”

“Yes.”

“And what would they do with the prisoners?”

“Hang them, I fear, without judge or jury.”

“I don’t mind the man, sir, but I hope the boy escaped.”

“Thank you, constable. I am alive and well, as you see.”

Both the lawyer and the constable looked up, and there, to their great relief, stood Walter.

“Where did you come from?” asked the lawyer quickly.

Walter told his story, adding: “Constable Stokes, I give myself into your hands.”

“Perhaps, as I am his counsel,” said the lawyer, “I had better take him with me.”

“Yes, that will be the best way,” said the constable.

Walter was ushered into the office of the lawyer.

At this moment the office door opened, and an old gentleman entered.

The lawyer rose from his seat with alacrity.

“Colonel Owen,” he exclaimed, “I am glad to see you.”

“Yes, sir. I received your telegram, and came by the first morning train. So the man who stole my horse has been caught?”

“The man who is charged with the theft has been caught,” said Mr. Barry.

“Mr. Barry, you have not introduced me to this young gentleman,” continued Colonel Owen, eyeing Walter with favor.

“I didn’t know that you would care for an introduction,” said the lawyer demurely.

“Why not?” asked the old gentleman, opening his eyes in surprise.

“Because he is the horse thief!”

CHAPTER XXXVII

WALTER IS VINDICATED

“Bless my soul!” ejaculated the colonel. “Surely you are joking.”

“No, I assure you I am not.”

“Then how does it happen that Mr. Sherwood is sitting here in your office instead of being—”

“In the lockup?”

“Yes.”

“I was taken to the lockup, Colonel Owen,” said Walter, “but about midnight a lynching party broke it open and took me out.

“But I made an appeal to my captors, and was able to prove to them I received a reward not long since for the capture of the famous outlaw, Dick Ranney.”

Colonel Owen sank into a chair.

“I never heard the like!” he was heard to say.

“Do you mind telling me, young man, why you were arrested, or why you fell under suspicion?”

“I was arrested while on the horse’s back.”

“Ha! But how did that happen?”

“I bought her of a man whom I met on the highway.”

“Gentlemen,” said the lawyer, “I find that the court is in session and all is ready for the trial.”

“By the way, colonel, are you not a graduate of Euclid?” asked the lawyer.

“Yes, sir, and I am proud of the dear old college,” rejoined the colonel, warmly.

“I agree with you,” said Walter. “I have passed two years in the college.”

“Then, young man, here’s my hand. My heart is always warm toward a Euclid man—”

“Even if you have to prosecute him for horse-stealing,” suggested Lawyer Barry slyly.

“Really, this is very painful!” said the colonel. “I wish I could get rid of it.”