Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1916)

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Pickles and Pearls 113 the peace while walking jailward between them, and they seemed so formidable that he was badly discouraged. "Mr. Leeson," said he, looking toward the garage man who was walking behind, ''would you mind telling me what became of the gentleman in the red uniform?" ''Gentleman !" sneered Leeson. "He was a tramp, like yourself, and no friend of yours." "Do not be rash in your judgments, Mr. Leeson. Many a true heart beats beneath a ragged coat, and not every man in motley is a vagrant or a vagabond. I should like to know what became of the man who was once my friend." "I picked him up in the road — he hailed me, said he knew you, and was eager to have a hand in running you to earth. Thinking his information regarding yourself might be valuable, I delayed my pursuit long enough to take him aboard." "That is all very interesting," said Charlie, "but it does not relieve my mind regarding my former comrade. Was he injured when your machine stopped so suddenly and threw you both overboard ?" Mr. Leeson exploded angrily. Charlie waited until the ebullition had subsided, and then patiently repeated his question regarding De Vere. "We repaired the puncture and came on to Boggsville," said the angry garage man, "and the tramp got out of the car when we arrived in sight of the town. He explained that he had some business, either at the McTodd manor, or at the church." "I suppose, then," murmured Charlie thoughtfully, "that he is waiting at the church. There is nothing he can do to stay the relentless progress of events, and the whole matter is still up to me. Gentlemen," he inquired of the officers, "am I giving you much trouble ?" <8A They looked down on him, those two giants in blue, and smiled sarcastically. "There's nothing you can do to make us trouble," said one. "Eh, Pollock?" he appealed to the other policeman. "Not if we know it first, Blake," chuckled Pollock. "Yonder is a house," said Charlie. "Would you mind leading me through the gate in order that I may quench my thirst at the pump in the back yard ?" "I'm. thirsty myself," remarked Leeson, as the officers hesitated. "I guess we can tarry long enough to visit the pump," decided Pollock, "although my idea of a thin time is to round up at the pump of a householder with the intention of assuaging thirst. However," he added tolerantly, "I suppose some people are built that way." They walked through the gate, around the side of the house, and came to the well, which Charlie had glimpsed from the road. There was something else he had glimpsed besides the well, namely, two hives of bees under a little trellis of grapevines. The bee Charlie knew to be an industrious insect, jealous of its prerogative in storing up sweets, and quick and fiery in resenting any and all interference with its labors. Those two hives were not more than six yards from the pump. "You are very kind to me," said Charlie appreciatively, edging to a spot between the pump and the rendezvous of winged workers. "Shall I do the pumping ?" "You stay right where you are," Pollock answered, "and I'll manipulate the pump handle. Leeson, you hold the tin cup." Blake fastened his fingers in the collar of Charlie's coat, while the other officer and the garage man began their operations. It was a situation fraught with many possibilities — Pollock and Leeson bending at the pump, only Blake