Peter Berry triumphantly.
âCommie spy, I bet,â grinned Tommy Hemus.
âWhatâs he saying?â demanded Joel Hackett. âHuh, Mr. Shinn?â
âMy guess is,â said Johnny, âheâs praying.â
âThen he canât be a Commie,â said Eddie Pangman. âThey donât pray.â
âThatâs right,â said Dave Hemus. âThem bastards donât believe in God.â
âSome of âem do,â said Drakeley Scott unexpectedly. âThey got churches in Russia.â
âDonât you believe it,â sneered Joel Hackett. âThatâs a lot of Red propaganda.â
âWhatâs the matter, Drake,â said Tommy Hemus, âyou a Commie-lover?â
âYou shut your damn mouth!â The Scott boy doubled his thin fists.
âAll oâ ye shut your mouths,â said Merton Isbel. He walked up to the kneeling man and deliberately measured the distance between the toe of his heavy farm shoe and a point midway between the prisonerâs thighs. âGit up, ye godless furrin whoreson. Git up!â
He let fly.
The man fell forward on his face and lay still.
Judge Shinnâs blue eyes flashed at Johnny with a sort of contempt. Then he went up to Merton Isbel and struck him a heavy blow on the shoulder with the heel of his hand. The old farmer staggered, his mouth wide open with astonishment.
âNow you men listen to me,â said the Judge in a throbbing whisper. âThis man is a prisoner. Heâs suspected of murder. Suspicion isnât proof. But even if we knew he was guilty, heâd still have his rights under the law. I will personally swear out a warrant for the arrest of anyone who manhandles him or harms him in any way. Is that clearly understood?â He looked at Constable Hackett. âAnd since you make so much of your constabulary office, Burney Hackett, Iâm holding you responsible for the safety of the prisoner.â
The chinless man said soothingly, âSure, Judge. Iâll go right along with him in the Hemusesâ car.â
The old jurist stared around at his neighbors. They returned his stare without expression. His lips flattened and he stepped aside, shifting his rifle slightly.
âBoys.â The First Selectman of Shinn Corners nodded toward the fallen man.
The Hemus twins bent over the prisoner, hooked his armpits, and lifted.
He was only half-conscious. The dark gray of his skin had a greenish tinge. His face was a twist of pain.
His legs refused to straighten. They kept making weak attempts to come up tight against his belly.
Tommy Hemus winked. âNow this ainât manhandlinâ, Judge Shinn, is it? You see he wonât walk.â And the brothers dragged the prisoner to their fatherâs car, his shoetips scraping on the road. Constable Hackett cradled his gun and followed. Hube Hemus was already behind the wheel, looking impatient.
Hackett pulled open one of the rear doors.
âUpsadaisy,â said Tommy Hemus pleasantly. He and his brother heaved, and the fugitive tumbled into the car head first.
The car immediately began to back up. Hemusâs sons jumped in with the prisoner, grinning; Hackett yelped and scrambled in beside their father.
The car was fifty feet down the road before the doors slammed.
âIâm sorry, Judge,â said Johnny in a low voice. âBut Iâve either got to go berserk or mind my business.â Judge Shinn said nothing. âI wish I hadnât met her!â said Johnny.
Orville Pangman was climbing into the cab of his open truck. The other men were pulling themselves up over the tailboard.
âBetter ride up here with me, Judge,â called Pangman as he kicked his starter. âYeâll get jounced around back there.â
âIâll ride with the others, Orville,â said the Judge quietly.
Eddie Pangman vaulted in beside his father.
Johnny helped the old man onto the truck