Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 59: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A LETTER OF DISCREDIT. The prisoner saw that discretion was practically the whole of valor in this case, and allowed himself to be led away. “T catch this guy doin’ the strong-arm stuff,” asserted his captor to the lieutenant at the desk, “ an’ if I ain’t mistaken he amswers the description of the ex-con we got the warnin’ for last week.” The lieutenant drew a paper from a drawer of the desk, glanced it over, and then looked at Bradwell closely. ‘““'What’s yer name?” he demanded. ““ George Bradwell,” answered the pris- oner promptly. “So! And yer not ashamed of it! Well, we got yer record, me boy. Yer an’ ex- con, and under suspicion of bein’ up to yer old tricks. But I guess we got ye now in @ new one, not quite so artistic as forgin’ checks.” At that a new understanding of Guthrie’s subtlety dawned on Bradwell. His wily foe was not making the mistake of appear- ing against him in court on a definite charge, thus forcing Bradwell to retaliate. He had, instead, reported his record, real and false, to the police, thus discrediting him and any future testimony he might offer, and at the same time attempting to hound him out of town, in case his hired thug did not succeed in knocking him out. He was haled into the magistrate’s court after a wretched night in a dirty cell. His trial was brief and most unsatisfactory. The judge was visibly impressed by his appearance, but his story, lacking some links which he did not dare supply, was unconvincing, particularly in view of the garbled record supplied the police. But, as he expected, the man he was accused of attacking did not appear against him. “TI shall have to dismiss this particular charge against this prisoner,” the magis- trate ruled, ‘‘ inasmuch as the chief wit- ness cannot be found, and the officer’s fleeting glimpse of the attack is not con- clusive evidence. In view of his record, however, and the probabilities in the present case, and his confession that he has no visible means of support, I am con- vinced that he constitutes a public menace. I therefore direct that the charge be changed to vagrancy, of which I find him 4 Arcosy 49 guilty. Young man, I’m going to try to saye the city the expense of supporting you, however. I will suspend sentence on condition that- you leave the city within twenty-four hours. If you’re found here after that you'll go up for the limit.” Dazed and helplessly enraged, with an- other conviction added to his record, Brad- well left the court-room. , As he ‘stepped through the door a weather-beaten, middle-aged man, who had followed him out, stepped up to him. ‘“ Hey, bo, want a job?” said the man. “T’m mate of the steam schooner, Alfred Eagan, Buffalo to Duluth. I’m after some deck-hands. Maybe you’d like a lake trip.” ‘““You’re on!” Bradwell exclaimed. “Lead me to your old tub. Anything to get out of this cursed city.” CHAPTER X. AT LAST A FRIEND. ONE year later a young tramp slipped off a blind baggage at the edge of a drowsy little railroad yard, and, clamber- ing up the side of a cut and over a high board fence, found himself in the midst of a still drowsier village. “Eden” was the name on the weather-beaten station, and Bradwell, as he breathed in the fresh peacefulness of the scene, thought it most appropriate. Cool maple rows, hedged lawns, white clapboards and green blinds invited the wanderer to rest. Instead he stepped for- ward briskly. x A little way down the street a village gossip, in gingham uniform with head towel- bound, was exchanging neighborhood news with another of the sorority across the line fence. An upturned broom emphasized her remarks, semaphore fashion. _ “ There goes another of Judge Thurston’s tramps,’ she commented as the wanderer came in sight. ‘‘ Ht ain’t right for him to be taking in all the worthless trash that comes along, the way he does. One of ’em will commit a crime in town some day, you mark my word, Mary Jane. I told Mrs. Thurston so cnce.” S (C©) COMIClLOO