Chapter XVIII: Guilty

“Can’t you take me to the man that owns this place?” poor Hervey asked, as his captor strode along, holding him by the sleeve.

“I’d have to take you all the way to Europe to do that,” the man answered with a kind of brisk pleasantry. “Switzerland and gosh knows where all. And all I got is two men on the grounds.”

The unfortunate captive ventured to take advantage of this faint sign of relenting. “If I promise never to----”

“You promise that to the man I’m going to take you to,” the superintendent interrupted. “I’ve got nothing to do with it.” He seemed not a bad sort, but rather a man keyed up to perform a plain duty. “I was on the grill, now it’s your turn,” he said. “I’ve got the harvests to get ready for and grading down the terraces and it seems I’ve got to look out for every grape-stealing fence climber in the state.”

Hervey tried another tack with this much-harassed man who talked shop so freely with him. “Bimbo, I feel sorry for you,” he said.

The man glanced sideways at him. “Well, I reckon nobody’s going to kill you,” he said.

He hurried along winding gravel walks, Hervey running to keep up with him. Soon they passed along the side of a great brick mansion covered with ivy. The windows on the ground floor were boarded up. The lawn which they crossed was shaded by mammoth elms and at a pretty granite bird bath, a robin was leisurely taking a drink, pausing like an epicure after each draught. Hervey wished that he was to be taken before the owner of this princely estate; somehow he felt that he would stand a chance with a gentleman of such wealth. He knew that wealthy gentlemen helped the Boy Scouts. But then he was no longer a scout....

With brisk concentration on a palpably unpleasant task the responsible custodian of the place passed out into the road and along it for perhaps a hundred yards where there were several houses, a couple of stores and a square white church. This was all there was of Farrelton Junction. Down in the woods was a tiny railroad station. The superintendent conducted Hervey to a white peak-roofed house almost exactly like the one he lived in. Like most New England houses it was porchless and severe. But it looked as if it had been painted only that very day. On the front door a modest sign proclaimed it to be the home of _Alden Snibbel, Justice of the Peace_. Hervey was relieved that this time it was not a police station he was to enter.

Mr. Snibbel himself opened the door and immediately a delicious odor of cooking pastry was wafted to Hervey. Mr. Snibbel was coatless with suspenders conspicuously visible. He was lanky and had a sandy mustache. He was in need of shaving. He was easy and pleasant. There was no suggestion of authority or the law in the plainly furnished room where Hervey and his captor sat down on a hair-cloth sofa. A parrot in a cage said, “Here we are. Stay to dinner.” Hervey felt reassured; it was not so bad. Mr. Snibbel sat down at a flat desk and this was the only suggestion of legal formality in the whole scene.

Best of all, Hervey’s captor addressed Mr. Snibbel by his first name. “Sniffs pretty good, Allie,” said he.

“The wife’s making pies,” said the justice. “Get your radio fixed all right?”

“Had to get a tube up to the Center. Well, here’s the first catch--hook, bait and sinker. Didn’t notice the sign a mile big, sprawled down into the flower hedge; says he was after a ball.”

The justice of the peace glanced at Hervey, then back at the complainant.

“I’m doing just what General Pond told me to do,” said the superintendent. “I’m bringing this youngster here for trespass. The general gave me his orders; no matter who it was, he said.”

“Yes, he was complaining to me,” said the justice casually. He seemed to ponder for a few moments, then asked Hervey his name, where he lived, if he attended school, etc. And Hervey told him how he had not intended to trespass; how he was just pursuing the ball. He said he was sorry he had done any damage. He protested that he had not seen the sign.

“Well, if you think he’s punished----” the superintendent said. It was amusing how at the point of sentencing he seemed to waver and relent.

“I think it just simmers down to a plain case of trespass,” the justice drawled impersonally and not unkindly. “He didn’t intend to do any damage. He’s responsible for that, of course, but I sort of think that just a little taste of the law and he’ll stay out of people’s grounds; I think then he’ll pay more attention to signs. You don’t want to make a charge of destroying property? Just trespass--that’s unlawful entry.”

“No, I’m not the man to pile it on.”

The justice seemed to pause and consider. Then suddenly, as if to make an end of the matter, he said, “Well, there’s no use of property owners putting up signs if a boy that doesn’t care enough to take notice comes along and just goes where he wants to. And besides, a fence around private property is sign enough. You saw the fence, I reckon.”

“Yes sir,” said Hervey, in panic apprehension.

“Hmm. And if the authorities don’t stand ready to enforce the law, there’s not much use of anything.” He glanced at General Pond’s superintendent in a way of pleasant query, as if to ask whether this was not fair and reasonable.

“Seems so,” said the superintendent.

“Well, I’m going to fine you five dollars,” said the justice. “And that really isn’t five dollars fine, because it includes the costs. You know what costs are? Well every time a boy breaks the law and gets caught it costs the community money. So the boy has to pay this; that’s only fair. _Five dollars fine including costs_,” he added conclusively.

“I haven’t got five dollars,” Hervey said pitifully. “So do I have to go to jail?”

The justice glanced at the superintendent who seemed uncomfortable. I suspect that glance deterred the man from offering to pay the fine. Alas, he was paying the penalty that every man who dealt with Hervey had to pay; he was feeling contemptible for doing what was right.

“Oh bimbo, that’s a lot for a feller to have,” said Hervey. “Will you please not send me to jail--please?”

The justice studied him. It was perfectly evident that he was resolved to make him an example, but also that was disposed to temper his judgment with consideration. “No, it don’t need that you go to jail, I guess,” he drawled: “not if you’re honest. I’ll parole you till twelve o’clock to-morrow. If you don’t come and pay your fine then, we’ll have to send for you. You have parents, I suppose?”

“Y--yes--I have.”

“Very well then, you come here to-morrow not later than twelve o’clock and pay your fine. And I think then you’ll have had your lesson.” The official glanced significantly at General Pond’s man as if to say he thought that was the best solution.

And General Pond’s man made a wry face, as if to say that he supposed so.

As for Hervey, he was so thankful to go free that he did not for the moment concern himself about the fine. His captor did not accompany him, but stayed behind to look at the justice’s radio set. He went out into the road with Hervey, however, and showed him how he could get back to the ball field without crossing the Pond estate.

“Does parole mean that you’re--sort of--not free yet?” he asked.

“That’s it, sonny,” said the superintendent. “Long as you don’t fail you’re all right. You just tell your father. Every kid is entitled to one flop I suppose; they say every dog is entitled to one bite. And now you get your lesson. Scoot along now and I hope your team wins.”