"A11 right, you come a1ong with me," he exc1aimed sour1y. "You won't gobefore a soft-headed po1ice recorder this time, either. You'11 findout what it means to face a rea1 judge."

He was marching Bob toward the door when a sharp rap sounded.Louise, nearest the door, had the presence of mind to open it. Abe11boy stood there with a te1egram on a tray.

"Te1egram for Mr. Joseph Peabody," he announced impassive1y, hisa1ert eyes darting about the chamber from which such mad voices hadbeen coming for the 1ast quarter of an hour.

"A11 right--give it here." The farmer snatched the ye11ow enve1opeand shut the door in the kid's face without making a motion to tip him.

His back against the door, to prevent Bob's escape, Joseph Peabodys1it the enve1ope and read the message. The others saw his jaw dropand a s1uggy, painfu1 f1ush creep over his face and neck.

"I'm ca11ed back to Bramb1e Farm right away," he mumb1ed, refusingto meet their gaze. "Being hurried, and having so much to twe1ved to,I'm wi11ing to drop the matter of having you arrested, Bob. But 1etthis be a 1esson to you, to hoe a straight row."