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Pee-Wee Harris on the Trail

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<h2> CHAPTER XXVI </h2> <h3> THE CULPRIT AT THE BAR </h3> The book could not have been so very big, for Justice of the Peace Fee lived in a very small house. It was almost concealed among trees fifty yards or so up the road. Justice Fee was one of those shrewd, easy-going, stern but good-natured, lawyers that one meets away off in the country. He was altogether removed from that obnoxious thing, the small town lawyer. Up in the edge of his gray hair rested a pair of spectacles, with octagon shaped lenses, almost completely camouflaged by his grizzled locks. These spectacles were seldom where they belonged, on his nose. Apparently he wore them to bed, for after several minutes of knocking by the visitors, he appeared with them on, the while groping for the sleeve of an old coat he had partly donned. He took the callers into a room with a desk in the middle of it and sat down at this, facing them, his legs sticking out through the space in the middle. Then he opened the large book as if making ready to close somebody up in it as one presses a flower. He contemplated Pee-wee with a rather curious frown as he listened to what Ham and then Peter (greatly agitated) had to say. Our young hero, indeed, presented anything but a creditable picture. The old gray sweater used by the man who took care of the furnace in Pee-wee's home, the cap which he held, and his grimy face, made him look like a terrible example of hoodlumism; a trolley-car hoodlum, an apple-stealing and stone-throwing and hooky-playing hoodlum; a hole-in-the-ball-field-fence hoodlum. Nor did the terrible scowl with which he now challenged fate and the world help to make him look like the boy on the cover of the scout manual; the boy that Peter knew and worshipped. "Well now," drawled Peace Justice Fee, casting a tolerant side glance at Pee-wee, "you tell me this whole business and you tell me the plain truth. See?" "Sure I will," Pee-wee said; "I'll tell you all my adventures--" "Never mind about your adventures, and watch out, because the first lie you tell--" The justice held up a warning finger. "Now answer me this, never mind anything else; we'll drop a plumb-line right down to the bottom of this thing and have no beating round the bush--" "I beat lots of bushes for rabbits," Pee-wee vociferated. "Well, don't beat any here. Now" (the justice spoke slowly and emphatically, shaking a long finger with each word), "who--owns--that--car? Careful now." "Mr. Bartlett, where I live--in Bridgeboro." "Sure of that?" "Sure I'm sure; didn't I--" "Never mind what you did. Now what's this Mr. Bartlett's full name? Now--now!" he added warningly, "just you answer the question I ask you and leave the rest to me. If you tell the truth you won't get in any trouble." Pee-wee, somewhat awed, at last subsided. "Mr. James Bartlett," he said. <ANTIMG src="images/image_4.jpg" alt="Pee-wee before the justice of the peace." title= "Pee-wee before the justice of the peace." /> Pee-wee before the justice of the peace. Without another word, Mr. Fee drew in his long legs, arose, went over to where a book was hanging, looked in it, then took the receiver from the old-fashioned box telephone on the wall. The party waited, greatly awed by this show of calm efficiency, and ability to get right at the heart of the matter. Pee-wee was particularly elated, for presently his identity and whereabouts would be established and explained. He listened, with growing interest as the justice, unperturbed by delays and mistakes, finally succeeded in securing the desired number. "This two-four-eight-Bridgeboro?" Pee-wee heard. "Sorry to get you up at this hour. You Mr. James Bartlett? Yes. This is the peace justice at--What? I say this is the peace justice--peace--yes this is the peace justice--justice of the peace--at Piper's Crossroads, Noo York State. What? Yes. Noo York State. Pipes? No Piper's--Piper's Crossroads. Was your automobile stolen? Your automobile. What? I say was your auto--" "Sure it was stolen," Pee-wee said; "you just mention--" "Keep still. I say--was your automobile stolen--STOLEN? Well, it's for your sake--what's that? All right." There followed a pause. Justice Fee waited but did not address the company. A dead silence reigned. They could hear the ticking of the big grandfather's clock in the corner. Peter thought that signalling was better than this. Ham thought how wonderful it was for a man to have so much "book learning" that he could go right to the heart of a matter like this. Pee-wee thought how, in about ten seconds, he would be able to denounce these strangers, and appear as the real hero that he was. He would ignore Peter Piper entirely and give Justice Fee an edifying lecture on scouting. In about ten seconds they would all see.... "What's that?" said the justice, busy at the 'phone. "Your car is in your garage? I say--what's that? Oh, you looked? Sure about that, eh? Yes--yes--yes. You haven't got two cars? Six cars? Oh, six cylinders. No--no.... It's all safe in your garage, you say? Yes. Well, sorry to trouble you. No, not at all. Yes. All right. Good-bye." Peter Piper looked at Pee-wee with a kind of awe. He had seen the other thief escape in the darkness; everything had been exciting and confused. But now, in the lamplight and within the safety of those four walls he beheld a real crook, caught, cornered, at bay. Justice Fee had simplified the whole thing, talking little, depending on hard, cold facts. He had hit the vital spot of the whole mysterious business. He had caught this little hoodlum satellite of thieves in an ugly lie. Yet Peter Piper, who had in him the makings of a real scout, was not happy. He had thought that he would be happy, but now he was not. "If--if you'll--maybe--if I could take him to my house," he began, twitching his fingers nervously as he gazed wistfully at the Justice who embodied the relentless law, "if you'd let me do that he couldn't run away, it's so far, and he said he was hungry and--and anyway there isn't anything to steal at my house." That was better than reading the signal. And Peter Piper, pioneer scout of Piper's Crossroads was a better scout than he knew.... <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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