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'October, 1920
13
Weird thoughts surged through the young detective's mind as he sat at night in his oMce
A VILLAGE SLEUTH
By MORRIE RYSKIND
PRESIDENT WILSON'S favorite diversion, the public has learned, is reading detective stories. Which would tend to prove that the ultimate difference between a highbrow and a lowbrow is, approximately, nought and no one-hundredths inches. But this story isn't about presidents, though the hero's mother won't be at all surprised if he does become one.
William Wells, son of Pa — and Sheriff — Wells, had the laudable ambition of becoming a real detective some day and of making Nick Carter and Sherlock Holmes seem like just pretty fair second-raters. He had a complete collection of the Nick Carter series and was shy only three or four stories of the complete history of Old King Brady.
Now, to Sheriff Wells this ambition of William's was a laughable affair. That is, there were times when the Sheriff laughed at it, though there were times when it exasperated him beyond measure. Like the times when William, who should have been hitching the horses or feeding the pigs, was reading the exploits of Craig Kennedy.
"If you're such a good detective," growled the sheriff, "why don't you find out the thieves who are stealing my watermelons ?"
"You lemme off from prayer meeting tonight," flashed William, "and I'll show you."
"It's a go," said the sheriff, sharply — sharply, so William wouldn't know he was chuckling inside. "But if you don't, I don't want to ketch you reading any more detective stories around here."
The next scene in this little melodrama is captioned — though perhaps you have already guessed it — "That Night."
And, if we may imitate the style of William's favorite authors for but a brief moment, "weird thoughts surged through the young detective's mind as he sat at night in his office." William's brow, to be honest, was wrinkled. And well it might be. For to promise to catch a thief is one thing, and to do it is "something else again." And this, you must remember, was our hero's first case.
But don't think that William was baffled. After a while he got an idea. He took a ball of twine and carefully placed one end in the watermelon patch and the other end he tied to his shoe. And when he felt the tug on his shoe, he was going down to the patch post-haste and seize the guilty criminal and —
Not a bad idea, eh ? Well, maegre your opinion, Williami thought it was a world-beater. And, to justify his opinion,, sure enough the tug came. And William went down to the: patch. Keeping as quiet as he could, he followed the trail of the lonesome twine. It led him to an open fire. William was too excited and proud to think of any danger. Here was his big chance, and he was going to make the most of it.
And then, by the light of the fire, he saw — saw his gang. He had promised to run down the criminals — and he had. Of course, he owed it to his father to arrest them. But there is a greater code of honor for one's gang than for one's father. He couldn't betray them — not even for his dad. There was only one thing to do.
He did it — he joined them ; and got his share of the watermelons, too.
Suddenly there came shots. The gang took to its heels. Even William, unconscious of the fact that we were to