Harry Watson's High School Days Part 9

"Some of the men have probably taken him up to Squire Baxter's," said Miranda, and others who had heard her words instantly gave the irresponsible old spinster's remark the stamp of authority, declaring that Harry's arrest was but the question of a few minutes.

In the meanwhile, the fire having burnt itself out on Jed Brown's house, and the danger to the neighboring mansions being thereby over, the members of the bucket brigade made their way once more to the scene of the conflagration.

With Mr. Martin on one side, and his son Paul on the other, Harry approached the ruin.

"There he comes! There he comes! Luther Martin has the little sneak! He knows what to do with him!" snapped Miranda.

And in whispers, low but none the less audible, the word quickly ran around the circle of gossips that the village Nestor was holding the youthful fire-bug until the proper authorities could take him into custody. So curious were the glances cast at them by the rest of the people, that Mr. Martin could not help but notice them, and, wondering at their cause, he turned to the man nearest him, calling him by name, and asked:

"What is the matter, Zeke? Why is everybody whispering and looking at me?"

"'Tain't you they're looking at," returned the man, in a voice as solemn as though he were chief mourner at a funeral.

"Then who is it?"

"Harry Watson."

"What about him?"

"You know as well as I do."

Too familiar with his neighbors not to know that something of unusual seriousness was afoot, Mr. Martin laid his hand heavily upon Zeke's shoulder.

"I want you to tell me what people are saying about Harry Watson, and what all this mysterious whispering means?" declared the patriarchal man in stern tones.

Realizing that it would be folly to try to deceive the village Nestor, Zeke looked uneasily about him, then cleared his throat, preparatory to speaking.

"Well, it's this way, Luther," he began in a whining voice. "They are saying as how you're holding Harry Watson until the constable can come and arrest him."

Both Paul and the boy against whom the breath of suspicion had been directed could not help but hear what pa.s.sed between Mr. Martin and the man with whom he was talking, and as the latter explained the action of the rest of the spectators, Harry staggered back as though he had been struck a blow in the face.

"Arrest me!" he exclaimed. "What for?"

"You know," declared Zeke in a mournful voice.

"Nonsense, Zeke. n.o.body's going to arrest Harry Watson any more than they are me," interrupted Mr. Martin. "And now if you'll just get over your desire to create a mystery and tell me what this is all about, I'll quickly settle it-and if you don't, I'll ask somebody who can tell me the plain facts without any tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs."

Fond as he was of beating about the bush and giving vague hints and meaning glances, rather than a plain statement of facts, Zeke, however, did not wish to be deprived of exploding the bomb.

"Pud Snooks says he seen young Watson running away from the fire, and he and a lot of us smelled kerosene just as the blaze started, and Mirandy and the rest of us has been saying that there won't be any house safe in Rivertown until that boy is fast behind lock and key."

His son having told him during supper the trick the bully had tried to play on Harry which had come so near to resulting in the death of the little children; also about the new student's preventing Pud from s...o...b..lling the crippled veteran, and his attempt to foul the boy during the race on the river, Mr. Martin readily realized the story was but the emanation of the bully's brain.

Raising his voice so that it could be heard by all within a radius of fifty feet, the village Nestor exclaimed:

"That's utter nonsense, Zeke. Harry Watson is a good boy. He comes from an honorable family, and there's no more reason for accusing him of setting Jed Brown's place afire than there is of accusing me!" Then the patriarchal man paused a few moments to allow the murmurs of surprise to subside before he added in a still louder voice than at first, for the greater effect:

"Besides, Harry Watson has been at my house all the evening, and came to the fire together with my boy, Paul, several of his friends, and myself."

"But Pud said he seen him!" declared several people, evidently unwilling to accept Mr. Martin's words.

"Where is Pud?" demanded the village Nestor. "I--"

"Yes, where is Pud Snooks? I want to talk to him!" exclaimed a shrill voice, interrupting.

Turning at the sound, the men and women beheld the bent and bowed form of old Jed Brown.

Instantly, there was a babel of talk and exclamations at this unexpected turn in affairs.

"What do you want to see him for?" demanded one of the men.

"I want to see him to ask him what he was doing in my shed just before I caught him coming out."

At the words, several of the men and women crowded about the crippled veteran, plying him with questions; but with a wave of his hand, Mr.

Martin silenced them.

"This is a very serious statement, Jed," he exclaimed in a stern voice.

"I warn you that you must be careful what you say. Now tell me just what happened, and how you discovered the fire."

As they heard the words, those of the men and women who were still at the scene, formed a circle about the village patriarch and the crippled veteran, necks craned forward, ears c.o.c.ked, that they might not lose a syllable of anything that was said.

"I was just getting ready to go to bed when I heard a noise out in the shed," declared Jed. "For some time I've been missing tools, and so I picked up a club I had by the kitchen stove, and started out to see what the trouble was.

"I s'pose I made some noise, for just as I had stepped out of the kitchen door, somebody ran out from the shed and tried to pa.s.s me.

"'Who is it?' I cried. But instead of answering me, the person swung at me and caught me in the shoulder with a blow that would have knocked me down had I not thrown my arms about him and hung on."

As he made this statement, the crippled veteran paused. For several moments his auditors waited, thinking he would continue, but when he did not several of them asked:

"Did you see who it was?" "Could you get a look at his face?"

"Yes."

"Who was it?"

"Pud Snooks!"

At the p.r.o.nouncement of the bully's name, cries of astonishment arose from the circle of men and women.

"Why didn't you hold onto him?" demanded Mr. Martin.

"Because he shook me off."

"Then what did you do?"

"I started after him-and I hadn't gone more than half way up the street before I saw flames burst from the shed."

In silence all those in the circle heard these words.