CHAPTER XI

THE “COURT” AND THE “VERDICT.”

WHEN at length the squire stood upon the legs he had been drawn out by, and found himself in the presence of the Huswick boys, the recognition and pleasure were mutual.

“You scoundrels!” he began, brushing the dirt from his clothes and hair.

“What are we scoundrels fer?” said Hank, the tall one, with a comical grin on his thin, sinewy features. “Fer snakin’ ye out of the log?”

“If ye ain’t satisfied, we can pack ye in agin,” suggested Dock. But Peternot did not seem to take that view of the matter.

“How come ye in there, anyhow?” said Tug. “Was he murderin’ on ye?”

“Yes! Where is the villain? He’s got my money!” And away limped the old man in pursuit of the youthful robber and assassin.

“Them melons!” whispered Tug.

“Can’t help it now,” muttered Dock. “Hank, I wish you’d left the old fox in his hole!”

Guided by the sound of voices, and the sight of a head or two between the standing trunks, Peternot marched straight to the log behind which Jack was busy picking up his half-dollars. There were Cub and Hod watching him, while Lion watched them; there also were the stolen melons,—an interesting sight to the angry squire.

“Hullo, boys!” said Hank, leaning over the log, with one foot upon it, “where did them melons come from?”

“Do’no’,” replied Cub. “They was here when we come,—wa’n’t they, Hod?”

“Them melons come from my garden, and they come by your hands!” exclaimed Peternot. “I know it! and I’ll have ye up for trespassin’, the hull coboodle of ye!”

“Look here, squire!” said Hank, “seems to me you’re a little mite hasty. You ought to know your friends better ’n all that. Where’d you be now, if ’twa’n’t for us? In that ’ere hole. And where’ll ye be agin in less’n no time, if ye ain’t plaguy careful? In that ’ere hole!”

“He says you was murderin’ on him, Jack,” observed Tug.

“That’s a likely story!” cried the excited Jack, who by this time had got his half-dollars all back into the basket again. “Could I put him into the log? He was _in_ the log,—he was robbing _me_,—so I fastened him in and got away,—or I _should_ have got away, if I hadn’t stumbled over you fellows. Now just help me home with this money, and I’ll pay you well.”

“Help him at your peril!” said Peternot. Then, seeing the importance of securing such powerful allies, he added, “Maybe I was hasty, boys. Help me home with _my_ money, and I’ll say nothin’ about the melons.”

“That’s fair, if it’s your money,” said Hank. “Seems to be a dispute about it. Guess we’ll try the case. Come, now,—you fust, squire,—give in yer evidence whilst the court refreshes himself with a melon or two.”

So saying, Hank coolly reached over and stuck his knife into a watermelon, which he proceeded to eat, sitting on the log. “Take holt, boys,” he said, “this is lickin’ good,—wonder whose patch it come from! Yours, did ye say, squire? Guess I shall have to pay ye a visit some time. No, no, Jack! set down that basket! ye can’t leave the court with the damages ’fore the case is decided. Wal, seein’ the old man hain’t found his tongue yit, we’ll hear _your_ testimony.”

Peternot was, in fact, so choked with wrath at the sight of the five Huswick boys—for all the others had duly followed Hank’s example—sitting comfortably on the log, regaling themselves with his melons, that he could not have spoken without doing his cause great injury; and thus it happened that Jack was first heard.

“Now put your hand on this watermelon an’ swear’t you’ll tell the truth, the hull truth, and nothin’ but the truth,” said Hank, who had more than once seen the inside of a court-room,—perhaps unwillingly; and he handed Jack a slice of melon, which the poor fellow took with a grin and ate. “Now answer me; an’ don’t ye try to tell too much; for though they alluz make a chap swear to tell the _hull_ truth, they never let him, but shet his mouth dumb quick if he goes to let out more ’n they ask fer. Now.” (Hank took a bite of melon.) “What’s yer name?”

“Jack Hazard.”

“Ockepation?”

“I work for Mr. Chatford.”

“What did ye do ’fore that?” (Another bite.)

“I drove on the canal, for Captain Berrick.”

“How did ye happen to leave him?”

“He flung me into the canal twice in one day, which I thought was once too often, and I run away from him.”

“Poor boy?” (Hank dug into his melon again.)

“Yes; I never had anything,—I never had even a chance for myself till now.”

“Take another slice,” said Hank. “Now you’ve got a chance for yourself?”

“I thought I had; but this old man here comes down on me, and claims the money which I found in that hollow log.” And Jack, with the indulgence of the august court,—holding his second slice of melon in his hand,—poured forth his story.

“Now what have you got to say to all that?” said Hank, turning to the squire. “Have a bite? ye better,” holding out a piece of melon on the blade of his jack-knife.

Peternot declined to regale himself, and made answer: “I say what I’ve said to him,—the money (if ’t is money, though in all probability it’s bogus) was found on my premises, it has not been taken from my premises, and I forbid his takin’ it. But I’ve offered him a liberal reward for findin’ on ’t, and I offer it again.”

“Squire,” said Hank, “you’re a fair man, an’ I must say your melons are excellent. What do ye think, boys?”

Now the boys were unanimously of the opinion (with the exception of Hod) that the coin was spurious, and consequently good for nothing but to help them make their peace with Peternot. Jack saw them winking at each other, and knew their thoughts.

“You sha’n’t take it away from me!” he cried, throwing himself upon the basket. “I’ll die first! and you’ll have to kill my dog! O, I wish Mr. Chatford was here!”

“That’s the most sensible idee yit,” said Dock. “Boys, we don’t want to mix up with this business, only to see fair play. Better let the deacon settle it. He’s hum from meetin’ by this time. Go fer him, Bub; I’ll take care of your basket.”

“Will you! Won’t you let him have it? nor take it yourselves?”

“What should we take it fer? We’ve no claim on ’t, anyhow,” said Hank, who might, however, have thought and acted differently if he had believed the coin genuine. “Put, now! If I’m alive, the basket shall stay till you come back.”

“Besides, you can leave your dog,” said Cub. “He’ll watch your interest, while the squire’ll watch hisn. Be quick, for we can’t stay much longer ’n it’ll take to finish our melons.”

Notwithstanding his anxious doubts, Jack was persuaded that the best thing he could do was to run in all haste for the deacon, leaving Lion, Peternot, and the Huswick boys to watch each other and take care of the treasure in his absence.

“We’ll keep our word about the basket,” said Hank, with a droll look, as Jack disappeared over the fence; “but about the stuff that’s in ’t, this is the judgment of the court,—we allow ’t the squire’s claim is just, an’ give him the money, pervided he’ll say nothin’ ’bout the melons, but pay us a dollar apiece for helpin’ him carry it hum.”

“But we’ve engaged ’t the basket shall stay till he comes back,” Cub objected.

“An’ whatever else we do, we’re fellers that keeps our word,” added Dock, over his melon.

“Then how’s the coin to go?” demanded the exasperated squire, thinking the boys meant to dally with him until Mr. Chatford’s arrival.

“You don’ know nothin’ ’bout war,—you never see a one-hoss wagon!” said Dock, contemptuously. “Hod, off with yer breeches!”

Hod naturally objected, on strong personal grounds, to this part of the arrangement. He started to run, but Tug headed him off, and Cub seized him; when, finding that, with or without his consent, he was destined to part with the required garment for a season, the lamb of the flock yielded, and kicked off that portion of his fleece.

Cub took the trousers, and quickly turned the legs into a pair of bags by tying cords about the ankles. “Now bring on yer grist,” said he; “I’ll hold the sack open!”

“Plague on the dog!” said Tug. “He won’t le’ me tech it.”

“I can coax him. Here, poor fellow!” said Cub, patting him.

Lion did not greatly resent the patting, but the moment Cub’s hand reached for the basket, a deep growl warned him off.

“Kill the brute!” cried Peternot. “We can’t be bothered this way.”

“That’s easy enough, if you’ll pay damages,” said Dock.

“That I’ll do,—a miser’ble cur that stan’s in the way o’ my takin’ my own, on my own premises!”

“Kill him it is, then,” said Dock, looking for a club, and finding two. “Hank, you take this. Cub, you take your dirk-knife. Squire, lend Tug your cane, or use it yourself.”

“Now see here!” objected Hank. “This looks to me kind o’ mean,—half a dozen on us agin one dog! Hanged if I don’t like the looks o’ the pup, an’ I won’t have him killed.”

“What’ll ye do, then?”

“I’ll show ye.”

Lion was standing near the log, on the other side of which Hank placed himself.

“Now pretend you’re goin’ to grab the basket!”