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At the time my father was arrested, Woodward was one of his principal accusers. Duncan had, of course, taken up the matter. Since then Mr. Woodward had received a large legacy from a dead relative in Chicago, or its suburbs, and started the finest general store in Darbyville. But his bitterness toward us still continued.
The highly respected head merchant of Darbyville did not appear; and an examination showed that he had mortgaged his house and his business, and taken every cent of cash with him. It was an open acknowledgment of his guilt, and Kate was for letting it go at that. "It will do no good to have him locked up," she said.
Plenty of money and nothing to do," continued the man. "Wonder if any one in Darbyville would recognize hold up, Stumpy, you mustn't repeat that name too often or you'll be mentioning it in public when it ain't no interest for you to do it. Stumpy, John Stumpy, is good enough for the likes of you." And with great deliberation Mr.
To show how John Stumpy had had me arrested, it would be necessary to go back to affairs at Darbyville, and this I hesitated about doing. "If you have time I would like to tell you about my affairs before I started to come to Chicago," I said. "I would like your advice." The gentleman looked at the clock resting upon the mantel shelf. "I have an engagement at eleven o'clock," he returned.
In a trice I found myself on the ground, surrounded by half a dozen of the fastest young men to be found in Darbyville. Prominent among them was Duncan Woodward, and I rightfully guessed that it was he who had organized the attack. "Take it easy, Strong," exclaimed a fellow named Moran, "unless you want to be all broke up." "What do you mean by treating me in this way?" I cried indignantly.
"I have come all the way from Darbyville, New Jersey, to see you." "What!" He started. "And what is your business with me, sir?" he went on sharply. "I would like to see you in private," and I glanced at the clerk and several others who were staring at us. "Come to my office," he returned, and led the way through a door at one side, into a handsomely furnished apartment facing the side street.
The last remark was addressed to a horse standing in one of the stalls. A clap of thunder had set the animal to prancing. "Your horse feels rather uneasy," I remarked, glad of a chance to change the subject. "Allers acts that way when there's a storm going on. Too bad, too, for I want to hitch him up and take Mr. Woodward and another man that's with him over to Darbyville." As Mr.
I want to see how this drama ends," said Mr. Harrison. A little later I procured my valise, and we set out for Darbyville. I am sure my readers will well understand why my thoughts were busy as the train rolled on its way to Newville.
To a person already suffering under an unjust accusation such an intimation is doubly stinging, and when I told Dick that I was not afraid of Mr. John Stumpy, I meant that I would rather face the robber now than the Darbyville people later on. "I want to take the pistol," I added. "All right. There is the box of extra cartridges. Do you want the lantern?"
At length I managed to fit one of the sheets together and then read these words: C. Hholtzmann>, Chicago: Look out for a young man claiming to I had not been mistaken in my opinion of Mr. Allen Price. He was following me, and doing it with no good intention. I concluded the man must be employed by Mr. Woodward. Perhaps I had seen him at some time in Darbyville, and so thought his face familiar.
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