Chapter 18

JAIL LIFE

The manager of the minstrel company was, and quite naturally, in a high state of excitement when his people were marched off to the lock-up.

If he was not able to raise sufficient money to pay for the railroad tickets, it was useless to think he could satisfy the claim which alleged justice had against the men.

To remain there even for twenty-four hours without giving a performance would result in utter bankruptcy, and in case he was willing to desert the company he did not have money enough to go out of the town, except by leaving the baggage behind and walking.

An hour after the now saddened minstrels had been lodged behind the bars the manager called upon them.

"I've been trying to chin that old fool of a squire into letting you off for this evening, so's we can give a show, but he won't listen to anything of the kind," the visitor announced in a disconsolate tone.

"If you could rope off the yard and put up some seats we might perform behind the bars. Advertise that the gentlemen composing the greatest aggregation of minstrel talent in the known world will attempt the difficult feat of playing themselves out of jail."

This suggestion was made by the "funny" man of the party, but the distressed manager failed to see in it anything witty or comical.

"Can't some of you fellows suggest a plan?" he asked.

"Announce that we are to lay off a short time in order to--to--well anything you can think of."

"That is no plan at all; it would look rather fishy to reorganize twice in one week."

"Say that we are studying our parts for a realistic drama, entitled 'Would You put Yourself in Their Places.'"

"Now see here, boys, this isn't a thing to joke about. We must give a show to-night, and the question is how can it be done?" the manager asked in a tone of despair.

This was what no one could answer.

It surely seemed as if the squire had been prompted by an unkind fate to lay the heavy hand of the law upon this particular branch of the minstrel business, in order to deter others from traveling in the same path, and to prevent this company from inflicting stale jokes upon the public.

Finding that the chief performers could not suggest a way out of the difficulty, the manager took Jet as far aside as the size of the cell would permit.

"How much money have you got?" he asked in a whisper.

"None that belongs to me. The five dollars I loaned you was put in my hands for an especial purpose, and I really had no right to dispose of it as I did."

"But if you've got enough to pay these fines, I'll promise faithfully that you shall have every cent we take in until the full amount is paid back. There isn't any risk, my boy, for we shall certainly do a big business here."

Although Jet had had but little experience in this line, he knew that the receipts at the door, even if the small hall should be filled, would not amount to enough to settle the bills, and from it must necessarily be taken sufficient to carry the party to the next town.

"I haven't got half as much as you need, and if I had it would be wrong to use it."

"Then you intend to pay your own fine and give us the slip, eh?"

"I should have a perfect right to do so, because I took no part in the stealing of the fruit; but I shall stay with the rest."

During the next ten minutes the manager pleaded in vain with the boy, and then recognizing the uselessness of his arguments, left the building in a pet.

Meanwhile the members of the company did not look upon the imprisonment as such a very great hardship.

"Say, who has to pay our board while we are here?" one of the party asked the jailer.

"I reckon it'll come on the town."

"Then so long as it costs us nothing, what's the use of repining?" and the man started a song, in which he was joined by his companions, until the dilapidated building fairly shook with the alleged melody.

As a matter of course, this had the effect of drawing the idle ones to the jail doors, and the applause from the outside induced a continuance of the free concert.

All those who could show any right to enter the building crowded in, and among them was the constable whom Jet had recognized.

While his companions were amusing the visitors and themselves, he edged along as near this particular man as he could without exposing himself too freely, and during the pauses between the songs he was fortunate enough to overhear the following conversation between the fellow in whom he was interested and a brother constable:

"You've been away quite a while, eh, Jabe?"

"Only three weeks."

"Where was you?"

"'Tendin' to some private business."

"I thought when a man was elected constable he'd got to stay 'round in case he might be needed."

"I didn't ask for the office, an' don't intend to loaf here when there's a chance of makin' a dollar outside."

"What have you been up to?"

"That's my own business."

"Of course it is, Jabe; but I know you're makin' money somehow, an' it seems as if you might give me a show."

"Well, I can't. I had a good thing for a while, but it's busted now."

If Jet had had any doubts as to the identity of the man they would have been dispelled by this last remark, and he listened eagerly for a continuation of the conversation.

"Got company up to your house, ain't you?" the inquisitive party asked.

"How'd you know that?"

"Some of the folks said you brought some friends back."

"It seems as if the people in this town had nothin' better to do than watch their neighbors."

"Then it is true?"

"I've got an old friend visitin' me for a spell, but he's sick now, an' we don't want folks 'round to disturb him."

"That must be Bob," Jet said to himself. "Perhaps he was wounded, and has come here to stay till he gets better. Now, how can I send word to Mr. Harvey?"

This was the one important thing to do in view of what he had learned, but it would be necessary that none of the townspeople should see the letter, and the manager of the company was so angry with him that it was a question if he would attend to the matter.

He seated himself in one corner of the room, where his face could not be seen plainly, and waited for this particular constable to leave the building.

In about an hour the prisoners tired of giving a free concert, and, finding they were not likely to be amused any longer, the visitors took their departure.

From one of his companions Jet begged a few leaves out of a note-book, from another he borrowed a pencil, and thus equipped he sat down to detail what he thought was important news.

"Sending for money to pay your fine, Jet?" one of the party asked jokingly, and this caused the others to think of what they might do.

"I reckon a good many of us had better try the same game," a second man said seriously. "The manager can't get us out of the hole, and we may as well begin to hustle for ourselves."

"It won't cost much to do it," Jet replied, thinking that if a number of letters were sent from the jail his would attract less attention.

Nearly all the party concluded to make the attempt, and a call was made upon the turnkey for envelopes.

Jet offered ten cents to pay for the same, and in a short time the note-book was stripped of its leaves as each prisoner set about making a written appeal for funds.

The question of postage was next raised, and to this Jet was forced to respond, in order that his missive should be sent without delay.

By the time the letters had been made ready, the member of the company who came over on the cars with the manager paid his companions a visit, and, quite naturally, agreed to post the mail matter.

Now that he was reasonably certain Harvey would soon know the exact condition of affairs, Jet felt very light-hearted. It seemed almost positive he had stumbled upon Bob's hiding-place, and if such should prove to be the case, the second man implicated in the murder must be captured within a few days.

Shortly before mid-day the squire came over to interview his prisoners.

It was possible he had been figuring the cost to the town in case this party of twelve should remain contentedly in jail; and perhaps he was beginning to believe the sentence too severe when taken in the aggregate.

"Your manager has been tryin' to talk me into lettin' you fellers out," he began, assuming a friendly tone and air. "I told him that justice couldn't be tampered with, an' have come 'round to see what you're goin' to do 'bout payin' the fines."

"Squire, did you ever try to get blood out of a stone?" one of the party asked.

"What has that got to do with it, eh?"

"Nothing, except that it would be as easy to bleed a rock as to get cash from them who are flat broke."

"But, bless my heart, you can't stay here forever, you know."

"It depends on you. If the manager has made any kind of a fair offer I advise you to accept it, for it will cost something to feed this crowd, and I don't suppose you would care to take the responsibility of starving us to death."

The squire wiped the perspiration from his face, although the room was by no means warm.

"If you could pay somethin' on account, an' give bonds for the rest----"

"I don't believe you could scare up a dollar among the whole of us, and as for bonds--who would sign them?"

"But you can't expect me to let you go free after robbing a man's orchard, an' bein' sentenced in a regular court?"

"Certainly not, and for that reason we have settled down to the belief that we shall be your guests a very long while."

"If I should let you out long enough to give a show, would you come back here?" the squire asked after a long pause.

"Who would get the money taken at the door?"

"It would go toward payin' your fines."

"That's a matter we shall have to discuss, for it isn't a pleasant lookout to give a performance for the benefit of your court when we need money so badly ourselves."

"I'll come back in an hour an' get your answer," the squire replied with considerable show of dignity, as he left the building.

Jet was distressed at the thought that it might be possible the fines would be paid in a short time, for then he could make no excuse for loitering about the town, and even if he should do so there was every reason to believe the constable he was eager to have arrested would recognize him.