"What for?"

"Stealing chickens."

Jeff looked unbelieving and the jailer's face became less gentle. For a moment he was almost stern.

"That's serious. It isn't a light matter."

"I know."

"Then why did you look so doubtful?"

"It seems a few chickens are hardly worth a jail sentence."

"They're not, and neither is anything else, but some people never learn that. It just happens those boys weren't satisfied with one chicken.

They got three thousand that anybody knows about."

"Whew!"

"They'll pay for it. Now, Jeff, I'll have to take your dog."

Jeff sparred for time. He had known other people in similar circ.u.mstances whose dog had been taken away, and half the time they'd simply disappeared. That they'd sickened and died was the usual story, but actually they'd been destroyed because it was too much trouble to take care of them. Outwardly, Jeff affected an air of supreme indifference.

"Sure," he agreed. "Go ahead. Just be careful. Pal doesn't like a lot of people and he bites whoever he dislikes. Better be careful he gets his regular feeding every day, too. That's four pounds of the best ground steak. He hates everybody if he doesn't get it."

"Yeah?" Pop was not at all friendly now. "Suppose he gets sick?"

"If I don't get him back--and in as good a shape as when he was taken away--I know a couple of good lawyers."

"Lawyers cost money."

"I have a certain amount of influence."

Pop rubbed his chin reflectively and stared at the window. "I suppose you could keep him in your cell if you want to pay for his board."

"I might," Jeff said, knowing he had won this round and that his chance shot had hit the bull's-eye. Obviously, for reasons of his own, Pop did not care to have any lawyers investigating anything. "How good a cell?"

Pop was all brittle now. "If you've been in other cells, you know how good. How old are you?"

"Old enough to land in jail. That tie you're wearing, Pop. It hardly befits the dignity of your position and--"

"I told you not to try to sell anything to me! Maybe, just maybe, we can think up some other charge."

"We'd buy if we had any money!" the man in the back cell yelled. "What's your name, peddler?"

"Jeff Tarrant, representing Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd. The most quality for the most discriminating people."

"What's that dis-dingus mean?"

"It means shut up!" Pop snarled. "You're a smart one, huh?"

Jeff said meekly, "All I know is black from white. I take my pack in the cell too, don't I?"

"No!"

"I know exactly what's in it," Jeff warned, "and I know just what to do if even a penny's worth is missing. Maybe I know what to do if nothing's missing."

"We can get tough, too."

"I want that pack."

"All right. Keep it and come on."

Pal stayed very close to Jeff as Pop led them toward the cells. The two chicken thieves came to the front of theirs and clasped the bars with their hands. They were wholly delighted because, in his brush with Jeff, Pop had come off second best. Jeff grinned back at them.

"Hi, Jeff! Got anything to make our happy home happier?"

"Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., has something for everyone and can please you. Here is a nice hack saw."

"I'll take that," Pop said.

"You'll take it for thirty-nine cents."

"Hand it over. You'll get it back when you leave."

"Well--" Jeff gave him the hack saw and the pair in the adjoining cell roared with laughter.

Pop asked, "Got any more?"

"Unfortunately, the hack saw department is understocked and our new order has not arrived."

"Get in."

Pop unlocked a cell and Jeff and Pal entered. The bars were in front only; the cells were separated by brick walls. Adjusting his eyes to the gloomy interior, Jeff saw two bunks with dirty mattresses suspended by chains that were attached to the wall. There was an iron stand upon which stood a chipped basin and a faded towel. Beneath the stand was a bucket. Pop slammed the door.

"I sleep in front," he advised. "I've got a sawed-off shotgun and I know how to use it. Besides, just trying to break out can mean six months in prison. Think it over."

"Sure." Jeff smiled.

Pop strode back to the desk while the two chicken thieves shouted raucous insults. Jeff lost himself in thought.

The situation had been quite obvious from the moment he entered the jail. Few towns had a full-time jailer for two or three prisoners--unless there were other factors involved--and almost without exception such factors existed only when there were certain affairs that would not bear close examination. The majority of Cressman's citizens probably were honest, hard-working people, but some of its officials were not. The fact that they could be dishonest only because the rest were indifferent to the way their town's affairs were conducted did not change the situation. If he were one of the inside clique, Pop would have a better job, but he evidently knew enough so that he had to be given something in order to prevent his talking. Pop's reaction when Jeff expressed such utter willingness to take the matter up with an attorney--offered additional proof of this.

Jeff let his hand fondle Pal's head as he considered his chances. There was little possibility of breaking out by force and it would not be a good idea to do so anyway. As things stood, he faced a minor charge.

Breaking jail was a major one. It was illegal to keep him confined for seven days without benefit of counsel, but that could be brushed over.

They could always claim that they had held him on suspicion of some more serious charge.

Jeff sighed. He held a club over Cressman, but Cressman held him in jail. He scratched Pal's ears and murmured,

"Let it never be said that Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., gave way to despair."