"Stop a bit!" cried the judge. "He was taken on past here, and
he was badly injured. Now, if it was your Uncle Bob, he'll come
back the moment he is able to travel. Meantime, you must remain
under my protection while we investigate this man Slosson."
But alas--that thoroughfare which is supposed to be paved
exclusively with good resolutions, had benefited greatly by
Slocum Price's labors in the past, and he was destined to toil
still in its up-keep. He borrowed the child's money and spent
it, and if any sense of shame smote his torpid conscience, he hid
it manfully. Not so Mr. Mahaffy; for while he profited by his
friend's act, he told that gentleman just what he thought of him
with insulting candor. On the eighth day there was sobriety for
the pair. Deep gloom visited Mr. Mahaffy, and the judge was a
prey to melancholy.
It was Saturday, and in Pleasantville a jail-raising was in
progress. During all the years of its corporate dignity the
village had never boasted any building where the evil-doer could
be placed under restraint; hence had arisen its peculiar habit of
dealing with crime; but a leading citizen had donated half an
acre of ground lying midway between the town and the river
landing as a site for the proposed structure, and the scattered
population of the region had assembled for the raising. Nor was
Pleasantville unprepared to make immediate use of the jail, since
the sheriff had in custody a free negro who had knifed another
free negro and was awaiting trial at the next term of court.
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