CHAPTER TWOThe Visit to the Police Court
Toward school time a group of boys hurrying by on the way to the school room, caught sight of Tim in the sunshine on the steps. One of them called out:
“Hello, Tim! Heard about Alex? He’s down to the Avenue Station. Got pinched last night.”
The little lad made no answer, but the words had reached the ear of his mother, who was busy setting the house in order, and happened to be close to the open window. Mrs. Rudiger had been anxious all morning. Alex had never before remained away over night without permission. Her anxiety had grown steadily, and she was not without foreboding of ill. With a call to Louise, who had not yet set out for school, that she should take care of Tim, she set out for Mr. Rudiger’s place of business.
“Oh, pshaw! Boy’s trick,” was his instant declaration. But he called up the police stationby telephone. No boy of such a name had been arrested. He was smiling scornfully as he turned to his wife; but just then Louise walked in, leading Tim. A message had come from Uncle Tom. Mr. Rudiger again called up the station and found that a load of prisoners, including some boys, had just gone away to the court. The message might be correct. Alex may not have given his true name. As Rudiger set out for the police court, Tim sat by him on the car. It had proven impossible to get away from Tim. Tim loved his brother tenderly, and a very sober look settled on the generally peaceful face. There were but few vehicles on the street at this time, hence the car went so fast that it soon reached the neighborhood of the court.
The police court was well filled with a queer crowd. Several blue-coated men stood about the sidewalk, the door, and the room. The dingy, dirty chairs were mostly filled with people not altogether pleasant to see. Haggard faces and sour looks were on every hand.
“Is he here?” was Tim’s whisper, as he pressed his father’s hand.
It was only too true that Alex was there.On a bench lined with prisoners, two ragged, hard-featured young fellows beside him, sat Alex, his head bowed in shame. He had not observed the new arrivals.
Tim could smell the stale tobacco. It did not need eyes to show him the dirty, overloaded spittoons. He could not see the high and dirty walls, the smoky ceiling all littered with cobwebs, the windows that had known no other cleaning but the dirty rain in many a day. The gas burned dimly over the desks and above, for the day was cloudy. The air was too bad for the light to burn clearly. Nor could he see the long, low desk, and the judge who sat with other court officials about him.
A case was called which did not at the moment interest him, but at which his father drew a quick breath. One of the boys at Alex’s side was called forward, the charges read, and testimony taken.
A hold-up! There was reason why Mr. Rudiger should start. A short examination revealed that the boy had been several times in court before. A leer and grin were on his face as he took his seat. The other of Alex’s companions was called, and the situation seemed much the same. He carried a dark andrebellious look as if he felt himself outrageously treated, and would say little.
Tim did not realize that Alex had been called until he heard his brother’s voice. At the word, he grasped his father’s hand in agitation, and slipped down from the seat. He stood by his father’s knee as Alex gave his testimony.
“Now,” said the judge, “tell us the truth.” He spoke kindly, and his look was encouraging, for he saw the boy was not of the class represented in the other two.
“We went down to Frost Street about dark,” said Alex, “near the crossing of the railroad, and stands there in a shady place. Soon there comes along a feller, and one of the boys he steps out and shows the gun, and the other goes thru his clothes. Then we starts up a alley by a big factory and cuts across to Grant Avenue. When we was walkin’ along, Pete sees some fellers across the street, and he says, ‘Plain clothes,’ joking like. Mike only laughs. Soon we comes to the corner of Baldwin Place, where there is an old yard for scrap iron and such things with a high fence all ’round. We was talkin’ and countin’ what was in the pocketbook, when thegates opened, and there was the plainclothes men, ready for us.”
Cross-examination brought out the fact that Alex had never before shared in such an undertaking. That he had gotten in with his associates at Sunday ball games, and had entered upon the plan for a lark. The judge then began to ask about his home and parents, but the answers were not willing. Tim suddenly stumbled his way forward, and before the astonished court the blind, crippled boy took his place by the side of Alex. He felt about until he found Alex.
“And who are you, my little man?” asked the judge.
“Please, sir, Alex is my brother.”
“And what’s your name?” At this Mr. Rudiger was compelled to present himself, and Alex’s identity was made clear. He tried to lead Tim away, but the judge interposed.
“Please, Judge,” said Tim, “Alex is my brother. We didn’t know where he was last night. I’m sure Alex didn’t mean no harm. He’s my only brother. I knowed they wasn’t good boys that was with him, ’cause I heard ’em talking with Alex. I’m blind and nobody asks me to come anyw’ere, but there’s lots of things to lead a boy where he oughtn’t to go.Alex helps me, Judge, ’cause I can’t see. Please, Judge, let him go this time, and I know he won’t do it again.”
The queer spectacle of the two lads, one tall and manly in form but bent with shame, the other crippled and weak, standing in the presence of the court hand in hand, drew every eye. The high, thin voice was heard distinctly in its plea, for the crowd was silent. The big, glowing, but sightless eyes were filled with earnestness, and finally a few tears began to trickle unheeded down across the weazened face.
“You’re quite a lawyer, my boy,” said the judge as he leaned back in his chair and looked at the two.
“Yes, Tim,” he continued after a moment, “if Alex will promise to keep out of mischief I will let him go this time.” There was a movement of satisfaction in the crowd. Alex’s two associates scowled, for they did not like it.
“And you are in the saloon business, Mr. Rudiger?” asked the judge. “The business you are in makes it impossible for you to bring up a boy rightly, either in the city or out of it. You may make an easy living, sir, but you are putting a fearful handicap upon your boys. As for this one,” said he, pointingto Tim, “God has mercifully sheltered him from the evil influences of this world, and in that fact he is fortunate, deformed as he may be in body and lacking in sight.”
“Yes, sir,” said the judge in answer to a mumbled reply by Mr. Rudiger, “it’s your business, and I wouldn’t have your responsibility for all the world. That,” said he, pointing to Tim, “is the only kind of boy you ought to have. Case dismissed.” The chair creaked as the judge turned about and directed his attention to other affairs.
Nothing could measure the joy of Tim as he accompanied father and brother home. He insisted on being first to enter the house, trembling in his eagerness. But his mother was too overcome with shame to respond to the innocent lad. Alex was shamefaced and silent, and for a week or so scarcely showed himself on the street. Tim was very happy in his brother’s company. They rolled and tossed in their play with the dogs, and Alex took him riding in a wagon up and down the sheltered alley.
But as time passed much occurred to trouble Tim. He had understood only the misfortune that had come upon his brother. Soon the unkind taunts upon the street taught himwhat shame meant. The bitter anger and even tears of Alex and the insults of the street boys impressed Tim very sadly. When Alex soon resumed his running about in spite of his promises, and was impudent to his mother when she protested, he was painfully perplexed. Then, too, little by little he came to see that his father’s business was not respected, and the fact gave rise to many sad thoughts in the heart of the little blind boy.