"You reporters are certainly good ones at putting up a plausible story," retorted the officer contemptuously.
Striking his desk a sharp rap with his gavel, the magistrate exclaimed:
"When I want to hear from you, sir, I will let you know. You would make a far better impression if you and the sergeant and every other available man connected with the precinct were out searching for the two swindlers, instead of trying to send a poor, almost friendless, lad to prison. If you arrested half as many criminals as you do innocent men, it wouldn't take long to rid this city of crime."
So stinging was this rebuke that the reporters were busy writing down the words of the judge, and before they had finished, the magistrate said:
"Does your guardian treat you well, Bob?"
"Why, sir, I suppose so, sir; but he scolds me a lot. He seems to think that every time he sends me out to deliver an order, that I should come back within a quarter of an hour, no matter whether I have to go one block or twenty."
"How much does he pay you?"
"Two dollars a week, sir."
"What do you read at night?"
"About farming and ranching out West, sir."
"Then you want to go out West?"
