The professor rose from his chair. “Mr. Stoliker,” he said with determination, “my friend and myself will go with you quietly. We will make no attempt to escape, as we have done nothing to make us fear investigation. But I give you fair warning that if you attempt to put a handcuff on my wrist again I will smash you.”
A cry of terror from one of the girls, at the prospect of a fight, caused the professor to realize where he was. He turned to them and said in a contrite voice:
“Oh! I forgot you were here. I sincerely beg your pardon.”
Then a consciousness of what she had said overcame her, and the excited girl hid her blushing face on her friend’s shoulder, while Kitty lovingly stroked her dark, tangled hair.
Renmark took a step toward them, and stopped. Yates, with his usual quickness, came to the rescue, and his cheery voice relieved the tension of the situation.
“Come, come, Stoliker, don’t be an idiot. I do not object in the least to the handcuffs; and, if you are dying to handcuff somebody, handcuff me. It hasn’t struck your luminous mind that you have not the first tittle of evidence against my friend, and that, even if I were the greatest criminal in America, the fact of his being with me is no crime. The truth is, Stoliker, that I wouldn’t be in your shoes for a good many dollars. You talk a great deal about doing your duty, but you have exceeded it in the case of the professor. I hope you have no property; for the professor can, if he likes, make you pay sweetly for putting the handcuffs on him without a warrant, or even without one jot of evidence. What is the penalty for false arrest, Hiram?” continued Yates, suddenly appealing to the old man. “I think it is a thousand dollars.”
Hiram said gloomily that he didn’t know. Stoliker was hit on a tender spot, for he owned a farm.
“Better apologize to the professor and let us get along. Good-by, all. Mrs. Bartlett, that breakfast was the very best I ever tasted.”
The good woman smiled and shook hands with him.
“Good-by, Mr. Yates; and I hope you will soon come back to have another.”
Stoliker slipped the handcuffs into his pocket again, and mounted his horse. The girls, from the veranda, watched the procession move up the dusty road. They were silent, and had even forgotten the exciting event of the stealing of the horses.