CHAPTER XXXII 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.” “You can say in court that you are convinced of the young man's innocence.” “And I will! And afterward I shall insist on Mr. Sherwood's driving home with me and making me a visit.” Great was the surprise of Mr. Crane and Mr. Penton when they saw the horse thief approach the court room arm in arm with Colonel Owen. The trial began, and presently Crane and Penton were called on to testify. “Did you see the prisoner steal the mare?” demanded Barry sharply. “No, but—” “It stands to reason that he did, or he wouldn't have had her in his possession.” “Mr. Sherwood, you may take the stand.” Walter gave a brief account of the way in which he became possessed of Bess. “Does Mr. Sherwood's story seem probable?” now remarked the judge. “I am convinced that it is true,” said the colonel promptly. The judge saw how matters stood and discharged the prisoner. “We're left!” said Crane, in a tragic whisper. “Now, Mr. Sherwood,” said the colonel, taking Walter's arm, “you must accompany me to Shelby.” CHAPTER XXXVIII AN OPENING AT SHELBY At length they reached Shelby. Colonel Owen lived in a large and handsome mansion with ample grounds. “Yes,” he said, “I have a comfortable home, but my boys are away, and my wife and I feel lonely in this large house. It will brighten us both to have a young face at the table.” How could Walter feel otherwise than pleased. He was charmed with Mrs. Owen. “I am glad to see you,” she said. “May I call you Walter?” “I wish you would, Mrs. Owen,” said Walter. “Did you find your horse, Richard?” she added. “Yes, my dear.” “Did you see the man that stole it?” “Yes, my dear,” with a quiet wink at Walter. “I invited the horse thief to come and make us a visit.” Mrs. Owen certainly was amazed. “You did!” she ejaculated. “When is he coming?” “He is here already.” “I don't understand you at all, Richard. You seem to be joking.” “Not at all! There he stands!” and the colonel pointed to Walter. “What, Walter?” “Perhaps I had better go to the hotel,” suggested Walter. “No, no! I can't believe anything evil of a young man with your face,” said Mrs. Owen. “I am glad my husband brought you home with him.” “I am sure you will both be kind to me,” said Walter earnestly, “and I shall appreciate it the more because I have neither father nor mother.” One afternoon Colonel Owen came in radiant. “Well, Walter,” he said, “I've got some work for you to do.” “Mr. Hayward, the teacher of our classical school, is summoned to his home. The question is, Who shall take his place till the end of the school year? “I have mentioned your name to the trustees, who are ready to accept you on my recommendation.” “There is nothing I should like better,” he said, “but do you think I am competent?” “You ought to be able to teach any of the classes that will come under your charge. How are you in mathematics?” “I don't think I shall have any difficulty there, sir.” “Then you're better off than I am.” “How much salary shall I receive?” asked Walter, who was beginning to grow interested. “Twenty-five dollars a week. That's what the trustees authorize me to offer you.” “That will be quite satisfactory. How my old chums will stare when I tell them I am getting twenty-five dollars a week for teaching a classical school. I suppose,” added Walter, hesitating, “I ought to look out for a boarding-place.” “What, and leave us?” asked the old lady reproachfully. “But, Colonel Owen, remember that I shall be earning a good salary.” “You can find a use for it. It will help make up for some of the losses you have incurred. Shall I say you will accept the post?” “Yes, sir. I will try it, and hope to succeed.” CHAPTER XXXIX THE NEW MASTER On the platform of the main schoolroom in the Shelby Classical Institute stood Colonel Owen and Walter Sherwood. “My young friends,” began Colonel Owen, “you are all aware that your respected teacher, Mr. Haywood, is obliged to be absent for the remainder of the term. I have been able to secure as his substitute Mr. Walter Sherwood, who will do his best to carry on the work which Mr. Haywood has so auspiciously commenced. I hope you will receive him cordially and uphold him in his task.” Walter felt some diffidence as he realized what a responsibility had been placed upon him. He cleared his throat and spoke a few words. “Colonel Owen has introduced me to you and expressed a hope in which I join him—that you will receive me cordially and uphold me in my work. I will now go about among the seats, make inquiries as to your progress, and arrange the classes.” This short speech made a favorable impression upon all the pupils with two exceptions. These were the largest scholars—Ben Buffum and Enoch Snow. What they thought of Walter may be gathered from their conversation as they walked home together. “What do you think of the new master, Ben?” said Enoch. “I s'pose he'll do. He ought to, if he's been to college; but I'll tell you what, Enoch, it riles me to have a boy of my own age set over me.” “Me ditto!” “He would do for a primary school, but when it comes to young men like us, I don't like to let people know that he's my teacher.” “It's all right for the others to obey him, but you and I are just as strong as he, and maybe stronger.” “I guess I could floor him in wrestling.” “You're too much for me, Ben, and I think I can stand up to him, and maybe lick him.” “It's likely you can. Now, there was Hayward—he was a big man. I didn't mind obeying him.” “Are you talking about Mr. Sherwood?” asked Harry Howe, a boy of fourteen. “No, I'm not. I'm talking about Mr. Hayward.” “How do you like the new teacher?” “He's only a boy. He'll have a hard row to hoe.” “Who'll make it hard for him?” “Enoch and I.” “Then it will be a shame. He seems to be a perfect gentleman.” “Gentleman! He's only a boy, like ourselves.” “At any rate, he knows enough to teach us.” “That may be, but he can't keep order.” “Why can't he?” “You'll see whether he can or not,” said Ben, significantly. “Are you going to make trouble?” “It isn't best for small boys to know too much.” Walter had not failed to notice the half-rebellious demeanor of his two oldest pupils. Moreover, he had been warned by the janitor of the building that they would be likely to give him trouble. CHAPTER XL. BEN IS SUBDUED Ben Buffum was biding his time. In the seat in front of Ben sat Albert Frost, a much smaller boy. One day, toward the close of the afternoon, a loud shriek was heard in the neighborhood of Ben Buffum's desk. Walter looked up and saw Albert in tears. “What is the matter, Albert?” asked Walter. “Ben Buffum stuck a pin in my leg,” answered the boy. “Is that true, Buffum?” demanded Walter sternly. “Yes, it is,” answered Ben, with provoking calmness. Walter's temper was stirred, but he asked in his ordinary tones: “Why did you do it?” “Because I chose,” answered Ben. “Then,” said Walter, giving full vent to his scorn, “you are a contemptible coward and brute! “You forget that in this schoolroom I am the master, and consider it my duty to defend my pupils, even the smallest, from the violence of brutes.” “He'll have to pay for this,” he muttered to himself. “I can lick you, Walter!” he said, with an insolent leer. He had hardly got the words out of his mouth when Walter was upon him. He was wonderfully quick in his movements, whereas Ben, though powerful, was slow, and before he well knew what was going to happen he was dragged by the collar from his seat into the middle of the floor. Walter let go for a minute, and Ben, mad all over, prepared to grasp him in a bearlike hug. A stinging blow in the face convinced him that he had entirely underrated the powers of the teacher. He tried to return the blow, but, unable to defend himself, found his own blow parried and another planted in his chest, causing him to stagger. Then Ben lost all caution, and with a furious cry rushed upon Walter, in hope of throwing him down by wrestling. But, instead, he found himself lying on his back on the floor, looking up at the teacher. Ben got up slowly and “pitched in” once more, but in about a minute he found himself again in a recumbent position. “Have you had enough?” asked Walter. “I hit my head,” answered Ben, in a sulky tone. “I hope you are not seriously hurt,” said Walter, quietly. “If you would like to be dismissed now, you may go. I shall be glad to see you back here to-morrow.” Without a word, but looking intensely mortified, Ben took his hat and slunk out of the room. When he had gone Walter said: “Scholars, I want to ask of you a favor. Ben is mortified by what has happened. I wish you would all abstain from reminding him of it. In that case the lesson he has received may do him good.” The next day Ben Buffum stayed at home, and did not show himself on the street till evening. When he found that no one spoke to him of the affair he took courage to go to school the day after. Walter overtook him on the way and hailed him in a friendly manner with: “We will forget all about that little affair day before yesterday, Ben. You are pretty strong.” “I couldn't do nothin' against you.” “No, because I have taken lessons in boxing.” “I'd like to box.” “If you'll come round and see me this evening, Ben, I'll give you the first lesson.” The scholars were very much surprised to see Ben and the teacher walking to school together, and were further surprised at the wonderful change for the better that took place in the once rebellious pupil. CHAPTER XLI CONCLUSION Mrs. Deborah Simpkins, a near neighbor of Doctor Mack, was an ill-natured gossip, and had always disliked Walter because he once interfered to prevent a boy of hers from abusing a young companion. One day about two months later she put on her bonnet and with a smile of malicious satisfaction walked over to the doctor's house. “How do you do, Mrs. Sprague?” she said. “I thought I'd run over and have a chat with you.” “Come in, Mrs. Simpkins,” said Nancy, civilly, but not cordially, for she did not like her visitor. “I've got something unpleasant to tell you,” went on the widow, as she sat down in a rocker. “I'm awful sorry.” “Are you?” said Nancy, dryly. “What's it all about?” “I got a letter from my niece Sophrony, out in Iowa, yesterday, and she sent me a cuttin' from an old paper. It's somethin' awful!” “Is it?” “Yes, and it's about Walter Sherwood!” continued Mrs. Simpkins, triumphantly. “He hasn't met with an accident, has he?” inquired Nancy, turning pale. “It's wuss than that!” answered the widow, nodding her head ominously. “Worse than an accident?” “Yes; leastways, I call it so.” “Let me hear it, then, Mrs. Simpkins.” “Here 'tis; you can read it for yourself.” This was the paragraph: “A young man named Walter Sherwood was arrested yesterday, charged with stealing a valuable mare belonging to Colonel Richard Owen. We understand his trial is to take place this morning.” “When is the paper dated?” asked Nancy, who did not appear so much overcome as her visitor expected. “Over two months since. Walter Sherwood is probably in jail now. I feel for you and the doctor,” said Mrs. Simpkins, in a tone far from sympathetic, fixing her beadlike eyes on the housekeeper. “That's very good of you, but, as we got a letter from Walter yesterday, there ain't no call to be troubled.” “Did he write from the jail?” “Don't be a fool, Mrs. Simpkins! He wrote from the town of Shelby, where he has been teaching a classic school, and he inclosed the program of the exhibition. Perhaps you would like to look at it.” Mrs. Simpkins took the paper, and looked intensely disappointed as she saw that Nancy had only told the truth. “He teach school! A boy like him!” she ejaculated. “Yes, Mrs. Simpkins, and it's been a great success. They want him to go back next year, but the doctor prefers to have him finish out his college course. We're expecting him home every day.” There was a noise heard as of the front door opening, and a moment later Walter was in the room. “Oh, Walter!” exclaimed Nancy, overjoyed, in her excitement throwing her arms around his neck. “I'm so glad to see you!” “And I am glad to see you, Nancy, How's my guardian?” “He's well, and will be home soon.” “Good afternoon, Mrs. Simpkins,” said Walter, politely. “Mrs. Simpkins has just been telling me that you were in jail for horse-stealing,” said Nancy. “She is much pleased to find it all a mistake.” Walter laughed. “I am still more pleased,” he remarked. “I find school-teaching much pleasanter.” “I guess I must be goin',” said Mrs. Simpkins, hurriedly. When Doctor Mack returned he welcomed Walter with a joy not inferior to that of his housekeeper. “And so you have succeeded?” he said. “Yes; the trustees of the Shelby Classical School want me to come back, as my predecessor has accepted a position in New York. But I think I had better return to college and finish out my course. I have a thousand dollars saved up, and a little more, and I think with economy I can pay my own way for the remainder of the course.” “It won't be necessary, Walter.” “But, as my property is lost—” “You must forgive me, Walter, for deceiving you, but you have just as much property as ever—indeed, more, as you only drew one hundred dollars in the past year.” “But, doctor, why, then, did you lead me to think otherwise?” “It wasn't altogether a falsehood. About a hundred dollars had been lost in an investment, and I made that a pretext for withdrawing you from college. I saw that you were wasting your time and acquiring expensive habits, so I thought the best remedy would be a year of active life, in which you would be thrown upon your own resources.” “You are right, doctor. It has made a man of me. I shall go back to old Euclid and work in earnest. I have been a teacher myself, and I understand what a teacher has a right to expect from his pupils.” “Then my experiment has been a success, and your year of probation has done you good.” “I hope to prove it to you, my dear guardian.” Walter returned to college, and two years later graduated, valedictorian of his class. The money he had earned in his year of probation he devoted to helping the needy members of his class to obtain an education. Gates alone received three hundred dollars, and it saved the poor fellow from leaving college a year before graduation. Walter intends to study law, and it is predicted that he will win success at the bar. For whatever success he may achieve he will be inclined to give the credit to his year of probation. THE END *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WALTER SHERWOOD'S PROBATION *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. 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