"I tell you that I didn't do it, and that I never before heard of a man of that name!" cried Tag Mosher fiercely.

"Leigh says you did," the deputy again informed the prisoner.

"Oh, well, then, we'll say that I did," agreed Tag moodily. "I'm as good as finished, if the charge has been made. No one around here would think of believing anything that Tag Mosher might say."

Somehow, despite the unsavory reputation of the prisoner, d.i.c.k Prescott found himself feeling more than ordinary sympathy for this dejected prisoner. Could it be possible that Tag really was innocent of this last and most serious charge against him?

It didn't seem likely that the officers had gone after the wrong young man.

"Tag is bad, and yet there's also good in him that is very close to the surface," Prescott told himself. "It seems really too bad to think of this young fellow being locked up, away from the sunshine and the fresh air of the woods. And yet, if he makes a sport of manslaughter, of course he'll have to be put away where he can't do any harm. Oh, dear! I wonder why I feel so much sympathy for a fellow of this kind?"

They were at the broken bridge, now, with the wreck of the automobile lying in the creek.

"Mosher," said the deputy sternly, "Officer Simmons suspects that you believed we'd be after you, and that you tore up some of the planks from this crazy old bridge, so that our car would be wrecked.

Did you do that?"

"Oh, I suppose I must have," replied Tag, with the air of one who feels it fruitless to deny what peace officers were prepared to charge against one of his bad reputation.

"Then you admit damaging the bridge?" asked Valden.

"I admit nothing of the kind," Tag retorted.

"Who ripped the boards up?"

"I don't know."

"We'll prove it against you," declared Valden positively.

"Oh, I s'pose you will," grumbled Tag. "It's easy to prove anything against old Bill Mosher's son. My dad's where he can't help me."

"Are you going to play the baby act?" asked the deputy, half-sneeringly.

"Wait until I've had a week of good eating and sound sleeping, and then see if you can find anything babyish about me," snapped the prisoner.

d.i.c.k Prescott watched the pair, feeling a rising resentment against the deputy. Yet Valden was only resorting to tricks as old as the police themselves---the taunting of a prisoner into talking too much and thereby betraying his guilt.

"Pardon me, Tag," d.i.c.k now interposed, "but it's a principle of law that a prisoner doesn't have to talk unless he wants to.

I don't believe, if I were you, I'd say anything just now."

"I'm not going to say anything more," Tag retorted moodily, yet with a flash of somewhat sullen grat.i.tude to Prescott.

"Humph! You'd better talk, and get all you know out of your system,"

advised Deputy Valden contemptuously. "And the first thing you'd better own up to is pulling the missing planks up from this crazy old bridge."

Tag snorted, yet had no word to say. Instead, as best he could with his hands in the steel bracelets, he helped himself to a seat on the ground his back against a tree. Either he was extremely weary, or he was pretending cleverly.

"Come! I guess you can talk better standing up," admonished Deputy Valden, seizing Tag by the coat collar and dragging him to his feet. Mosher accepted the implied order in sullen silence.

"Is it necessary, Mr. Valden, to torment the prisoner?" asked d.i.c.k quietly.

"The way I handle a prisoner is my business," replied Valden rather crisply.

"You'd rather sit down, wouldn't you, Tag?" d.i.c.k inquired. Young Mosher answered only with a nod.

"It makes you feel weaker to stand, doesn't it?" Prescott continued.

Another nod.

"Mr. Valden," d.i.c.k pressed, "I hope you won't think me too forward, but I believe this prisoner, and I am going to urge you to let him find comfort by sitting down and resting."

"What have you got to say about it?" demanded Mr. Valden, so brusquely that d.i.c.k flushed.

"I'm not in a position of authority, and I admit it," Prescott replied. "But I think I have a right to object when I see a human being tormented needlessly, haven't I?"

"You have no right to interfere in any way with an officer," rejoined Valden less brusquely.

"Nor do I intend trying to interfere with a peace officer in anything proper that he does," d.i.c.k went on quietly, though with spirit.

"It seems that Tag Mosher has a right to rest himself by sitting down. If he tries again to sit down, and if you stop him from so doing, then Tag, if he wishes, may have me summoned to court to tell how he was tormented. I'll be willing to tell just whatever I may see here."

Valden snorted, almost inaudibly, then turned away. Tag slid down to the ground again, resting against the tree trunk, and preserving absolute silence.

The time pa.s.sed slowly, but at last Deputy Simmons came in a car, followed by another car which contained a young man whom he introduced as Dr. Cutting.

"I'll take you right back to camp," announced Dr. Cutting, after Simmons had looked over his prisoner and then introduced the physician to Prescott. "I can examine you better when I have you at your summer home and handy to your bed. Can you get into the car?"

"I can use my arms to draw myself up," d.i.c.k answered.

"Then let me see how well you can do it," urged the young physician, stepping back to watch Prescott, yet ready to a.s.sist him if necessary.

d.i.c.k got himself into the tonneau of the car, after some painful effort.

"Doc, you'll take the boys back to their camp, won't you?" called Simmons.

"Certainly."

"And remember, Prescott," called Simmons, "you've been aiding the county to-night, and the county will pay Doctor Cutting's bill."

Valden and Simmons exchanged some words in an undertone, after which the latter deputy came over to where Prescott sat.

"Valden tells me you have been interfering between him and Tag Mosher," began the officer. "How was it?"

d.i.c.k gave a quick, truthful account of his interference.

"You did right, Prescott," agreed Simmons, gripping the boy's hand. "Remember that any citizen has a right to interfere when he sees a prisoner being abused. Valden is a good fellow at bottom, and he's a brave fighter in time of real trouble. But he's just like a lot of other policemen who feel that they have to get all the evidence in a case. All a peace officer has to do is to find a criminal and make the arrest. It's the district attorney's business to get the evidence, but there are a good many peace officers to whom you can't teach that. Prescott, the next time you see a prisoner being abused you are to do the same as you did this time. I hope your hip will soon be all right again.

I'll try to look in on you in a day or two at your camp. Thank you for what you did for law and order to-night. Good night!"

CHAPTER XV