CHAPTER XXII
SPREADING THE NET
HE was a nice, fatherly kind of person, and he insisted on walking withBetty to the corner and pointing out the low roof of the mill down aside street.
"No water power, just electricity," he explained. "Give me a watermill, every time; this current stuff is mighty unreliable."
Betty thanked him, and hurried down the street. She was sure she sawthe sorrel tied outside the mill, and when she reached the hitchingposts, sure enough, there was the familiar old wagon, with some filledbags in it, and the drooping, tired old sorrel horse that had come tomeet her when she stepped from the train at Hagar's Corners.
"Betty! For the love of Mike!" Bob's language was expressive, if notelegant.
Betty whirled. She had not seen the boy come down the steps of the milloffice, and she was totally unprepared to hear his voice.
"Why, Bob!" The unmistakable relief and gladness that shone in hertired face brought a little catch to Bob's throat.
To hide it, he spoke gruffly.
"What are you doing here? It's after four o'clock, and I'll get HailColumbia when I get back. Mill's been out of order all day, and I hadto wait. Haven't you been to Doctor Guerin's?"
"No, not yet." Betty pulled at his sleeve nervously. "Oh, Bob, there'sso much I must tell you! And after ten o'clock it will be too late. Tothink he thought I stole his old chickens! And where is Petria?"
Bob gazed at her in amazement. This incoherent stream of words meantnothing to him.
"Petria?" he repeated, catching at a straw. "Why, Petria's a big city,sort of a center for farm products. All the commission houses have homeoffices there. Why?"
"That's where Mr. Peabody's chickens are going," Betty informed him,"unless you can think of a way to stop 'em."
"Mr. Peabody's chickens? Have you got 'em?" asked Bob in wonder.
Betty stamped her foot.
"Bob Henderson, how can you be so stupid!" she stormed. "What would Ibe doing with stolen chickens--unless you think I stole them?"
"Now don't go off into a temper," said Bob placidly. "I see where Ihave to drive you to Glenside, anyway. Might as well go the whole showand be half a day late while I'm about it. Hop in, Betty, and you cantell me this wonderful tale while we're traveling."
Betty was tired out from excitement, fear, insufficient food and thelong distance she had walked. Her nerves protested loudly, and to Bob'sastonishment and dismay she burst into violent weeping.
"Oh, I say!" he felt vainly in his pocket for a handkerchief. "Betty,don't cry like that! What did I say wrong? Don't you want to go toGlenside? What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to listen," sobbed Betty. "I'm trying to tell you as fastas I can that Wapley and Lieson stole Mr. Peabody's chickens. They'vegot 'em all crated, and an automobile truck is coming at ten o'clockto-night to take them to Petria. So there!"
Bob asked a few direct questions that soon put him in possession of allthe facts. When he had heard the full story he took out the hitchingrope he had put under the seat and tied the sorrel to the railing again.
"Come on," he said briefly.
"Where--where are we going?" quavered Betty, a little in awe of thisstern new Bob with the resolute chin.
"To the police recorder's," was the uncompromising reply.
The recorder was young and possessed of plenty of what Bob termed"pep," and when he heard what Bob had to tell him, for Betty wasstricken with sudden dumbness, he immediately mapped out a plan thatshould catch all the wrong-doers in one net.
"The fellow we want to get hold of is this truck driver," he explained."You didn't hear his name?"
Betty shook her head.
"Well, to get him, our men will have to wait till he comes for thecrates," said the recorder. "I'll send a couple of 'em out to thisfarm--they know the old D. Smith place well enough--and they can hangaround till the truck comes and then take 'em all in. I'm sorry, butI'll have to hold the girl here as a witness. My wife will look afterher, and she'll be all right."
"I'll stay, too, Betty," Bob promised her hastily, noting the plea inher eyes.
"All right, so much the better," said the recorder heartily. "We'll putyou both up for the night. It won't be necessary for you to see theprisoners to-night, and to-morrow you'll both be mighty good witnessesfor this Mr. Peabody. I'll send for him in the morning."
Bob's sense of humor was tickled at the thought of stabling the sorrelin a livery stable and charging the bill to his employer. A vision ofwhat would be said to him caused his eyes to dance as he gave orders tothe stableman to see that the horse had an extra good measure of oats.
But when he came back to the recorder's for supper he found Bettysitting close beside the recorder's wife, crying as though her heartwould break.
"Why, Betty!" he protested. "You don't usually act like this. What doesail you--are you sick?"
"It isn't fair!" protested Betty passionately. "Wapley and Liesonworked so hard and Mr. Peabody was mean to 'em! I don't want to savehis old chickens for him! I'd much rather the hired men got the money.And I won't be a witness for him and get them into prison!"
Bob looked shocked at this outburst, but Mrs. Bender only continued tosoothe the girl, and presently Betty's sobs grew less violent, and byand by ceased.
After supper Mrs. Bender played for them and sang a little, and then,declaring that Betty looked tired to death, took her upstairs to theblue and white guest-room, where, after she had helped her to undressand loaned her one of her own pretty nightgowns, she turned off thelights and sat beside her till she fell asleep. For the first time inmonths, Betty was encouraged to talk about her mother, and she toldthis new friend of her great loss, her life with the Arnolds, andabout her Uncle Dick. It both rested and refreshed her to give thisconfidence, and her sleep that night was unbroken and dreamless.
Long after Betty was asleep, Bob and the recorder played checkers, Mrs.Bender sitting near with her sewing. Bob was starved for companionship,and something about the lad, his eager eyes, perhaps, or his evidentneed of interested guidance, appealed to Recorder Bender.
"You say you were born in the poorhouse?" he asked, between games. "Wasyour mother born in this township?"
Bob explained, and the Benders were both interested in the mention ofthe box of papers. Encouraged by friendly auditors, Bob told his meagerstory, unfolding in its recital a very fair picture of conditions asthey existed at Bramble Farm.
Betty lay in dreamless sleep, but Bob, in a room across the hall,tossed and turned restlessly. At half-past ten he heard the recordergo out, and knew he was going to see if the chicken thieves and motortruck driver had been brought in by his men. Bob wondered how itseemed to be arrested, and he fervently resolved never to court theexperience. He was asleep before the recorder returned, but woke onceduring the night. A heavy truck was lumbering through the street, thedriver singing in a high sweet tenor voice, probably to keep himselfawake, Bob's swift thoughts flew to Wapley and Lieson, and he wonderedif they were asleep. How could they sleep in jail?
Breakfast in the Bender household was just as pleasant and cheerful andunhurried as supper had been. Mrs. Bender in a white and green morningfrock beamed upon Bob and Betty and urged delicious viands upon themtill they begged for mercy. It was, she said, so nice to have "four atthe table."
Mr. Bender pushed back his chair at last, glancing at his watch.
"The hearing is set for ten o'clock," he announced quietly. "Mr.Peabody has been notified and should be here any minute. I think we hadbetter walk down to the office. Catherine, if you're ready----"
Mrs. Bender smiled at Betty. She had promised to see her through.