“Unless by telling I can save Toby.”
He reflected, his face very grave.
“No; you couldn’t save Toby by telling, for no power on earth can make Sam Parsons speak when he’s determined to keep his mouth shut. It’s for you I’m goin’ to speak now, an’ for no one else. I’d like to explain to you, Phoebe, because we’re old friends, an’ we’re both fond of Toby. It’ll be a sort of relief to me, too. But no judge could make me tell this.”
“Then I’ll promise.”
He rocked to and fro a while before he began.
“It worries me, Phoebe, to think that you — a mere child — have found out what I don’t want found out. If my secret is so loosely guarded, it may not be a secret for long, and I can’t let others know all that I know. The truth is, Phoebe, that I don’t know for certain sure who took the box, not seein’ it taken with my own eyes; but I’ve a strong suspicion, based on facts, as to who took it. In other words, I’ve made up my mind, firmly, as to the thief, and for that reason I don’t want any detective work done — any pryin’ into the secret — by you or anyone else; for I mean to let Toby Clark take the punishment and serve his term in prison for it.”
“And Toby innocent!”
“And Toby as innocent as you or I.”
“But that’s a dreadful thing to do, Sam!”
“It is, Phoebe; it’s dreadful; but not so dreadful as telling the truth. I’m only a plain man, my child, without education or what you call ‘gloss’; I’m just a village constable, an’ likely to be that same until I die. But I’ve got a heart, Phoebe, an’ I can feel for others. That’s the only religion I know; to do to others as I’d like ‘em to do to me. So I figure it out this way: To bring the — the — person — who took Mrs. Ritchie’s box to justice, to tell the whole world who the criminal is, would bring grief an’ humiliation to some of the kindest and truest hearts in all Riverdale. It would bow them with shame and ruin their lives — not one, mind you, but several lives. It wouldn’t reform the — the one — who did it, for the — the person — wouldn’t do such a thing again; never! It was a case of sudden temptation and — a sudden fall. Prison would wreck that life beyond redemption, as well as the lives of the relations and — and friends, such as I’ve mentioned.
“On the other hand, evidence points to Toby Clark, and unless the real — person — who took the box is discovered, Toby will be convicted on that evidence. That’s the horror of the thing, Phoebe; but horror is sure to follow crime, and a crime has been committed that some one must suffer the penalty for. Who is Toby Clark? A poor boy without a single relative in the world to be shamed by his fate. Friends, yes; a plenty; you and I among ‘em; but no friend so close that the prison taint would cling to’ em; not even a sweetheart has Toby. So it’s Hobson’s choice, seems to me. I’m dead sorry for the lad; but it’s better — far better — an’ more Christianlike to let him suffer this fate alone, than to condemn many others to suffering — people who have done no wrong, no more’n Toby has. He’s just one, an’ a boy; the others are — sev’ral, and I consider it best to let Toby redeem ‘em. That’s all, Phoebe. Now you understand me, and I know you’ll stand by me and say I’m right.”
The girl had followed these arguments in wonder and perplexity. She felt that Sam Parsons might be right, in a way, but rebelled against the necessity of letting the innocent suffer.
“I know Toby,” she said softly; “but the others I don’t know.”
“Yes; you do,” he contended. “You know ‘em, but you don’t know who they are. What difif’rence does that make?”
“Who took the box, Sam?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“My friends and relations are all responsible for me, in a way, and I am responsible to them,” said Phoebe reflectively. “One thing that would keep me from willfully doing wrong is the knowledge that I would grieve others — those near and dear to me.”
“To be sure!” replied Sam, rubbing his hands together; “you’re arguin’ on my side now, Pboebe. S’pose in a moment of weakness you yielded to temptation? We’re all so blamed human that we can’t be sure of ourselves. S’pose you had a hankerin’ for that money of Mrs. Ritchie’s, an’ s’pose on a sudden you got a chance to take it — an’ took it before you thought? Well; there you are. Prison for you; shame and humiliation for all that are dear to you. Eh? Toby Clark? Well, it’s too bad, but it won’t hurt Toby so very much. He couldn’t expect much in life, anyhow, with his poverty, his bad foot, an’ the only man that could push him ahead dead an’ gone. But what’s one ruined career as compared to — say — half a dozen? Toby’ll take his sentence easy, ‘cause he’s strong in his innocence. The others would be heartbroken. It’s far better to let Toby do the penance, seems to me.”
Phoebe could not answer him just then. She was too bewildered. The girl understood perfectly Sam’s position and realized that in opposing it she expressed less charity and kindliness than the constable.
“I’m going to think about it,” she said to him. “I’m so surprised and confused right now by what you’ve told me that my senses have gone glimmering. But it strikes me, Sam, that we ought to find a way to save Toby without implicating the guilty one at all.”
He shook his head negatively.
“That would be fine, but it can’t be done,” he replied. “We’ve got to produce the thief to get Toby out of the mess, for otherwise the evidence will convict him.”
“Can’t we destroy the evidence — upset it — prove it false?” inquired the girl.
“Not with safety to--the other party. But do as you say; go home an’ think it over. The more you think the more you’ll feel I’m right, an’ that your best course is to lie low an’ let Toby take his medicine. The life in prison ain’t so bad; plenty to eat, a clean bed and work to occupy his time.”
“But afterward? If he lives to come out he will be despised and avoided by everyone. No one cares to employ a jail-bird.”
“I’ve thought of that, Phoebe. Here in Riverdale Toby couldn’t hold his head up. But it’s a big world and there are places where his past would never be discovered. I’ll look after the lad, if I’m alive when he gets free, and try to help him begin a new life; but, anyhow, he must face this ordeal and make the best of it.”
Phoebe went home discouraged and rebellious. She kept telling herself that Sam Parsons was right, all the time resenting the fact that the common, uneducated man looked at this unfortunate affair in a broader, more philanthropic light than she could, and was resolved to do his duty as his simple mind conceived it. The girl’s heart, stifle it as she would, cried out against the injustice of the plan of sacrifice. Sam knew all the parties concerned, and could therefore judge more impartially than she; but even that argument did not content her.
CHAPTER XV
HOW THE BAND PLAYED
Ed Collins, the leader of the Riverdale Cornet Band, was much amused when the four children — two Darings and two Randolphs — came to him in breathless excitement and wanted to hire his band to parade with the Marching Club on Saturday afternoon. Ed kept a tailor shop and was a good-natured, easy-going fellow who was fond of children and liked to humor them, but this proposition seemed so absurd that he answered with a smile:
“Bands cost money. The boys won’t tramp the streets for nothing, you know.”
“We’ll pay,” said Don, offended that he was not taken seriously. “I said we wanted to hire your band. Their business is to play for money, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes,” said Ed; “and sometimes they play for fun.”
“This’ll be fun,” suggested Becky.
“Not for the band, I guess. You’d want us to play every minute,” said the tailor.
“Of course; that’s what bands are for. When they don’t play, nobody pays any attention to them,” declared the girl.
“They have to get their breaths, once in awhile,” suggested Ed.
“Let ‘em do it when they’re not parading, then. You
can’t expect us to pay ‘em to breathe,” said Becky.
“We have money,” said Doris, with dignity, thinking it time to interfere. “What is your lowest price?”
The leader looked at her in surprise.
“You’re in earnest?” he demanded.
“Of course!” they cried in a chorus.
“How many men do you want?”
“All you’ve got,” said Don; “and they must wear their new uniforms.”
“We’ve twelve men, altogether, and when we’re hired for an afternoon we get three dollars apiece.”
“That is thirty-six dollars,” replied Doris. “Very well; do you wish the money now?”
The tailor was amazed.
“What’s it all about, anyhow?” he inquired.
“We’ve organized the Toby Clark Marching Club — over a hundred boys and girls — the best lot in the village,” explained Don. “We want to show everybody in Riverdale that we don’t believe — not for a single minute — that Toby ever stole Mrs. Ritchie’s box, and we’re going to carry signs an’ banners an’ march through the streets with the band playing.”
Collins stared a minute, and then he laughed.
“That’s great!” he exclaimed. “I’m with you in this deal, for it’s a shame the way they’re treating Toby. Perhaps I can get the boys to play for two dollars apiece, on this occasion.”
“We’ve got fifty dollars,” announced Doris, the treasurer. “It was given us by some one anxious to befriend Toby Clark and we’re to spend it just as we please.”
“Oh. Do you want fifty dollars ‘worth of music, then?” asked the tailor, with an eye to business.
“No,” said Don; “that is, not all at once. If your twelve men will play for twenty-four dollars, we could hire them twice. If this first parade’s a success, I want to take all the Club and the band over to Bayport, and make a parade there.”
“Dear me!” said Becky, to whom this idea was new; “how’ll we ever get such a mob over to Bayport?”
“It can’t be done,” declared Allerton.
“Yes, it can,” persisted Don. “If we wake up the folks in Riverdale we must wake ‘em up in Bayport. That’s the county seat and the trial will be held there, so it’s a good point to show the Bayporters what we think of Toby Clark.”
“How’ll you get us there — walking?” asked Becky.
“We’ll hire carryalls, an’ rigs of all sorts,” said Don.
“We can’t hire much if we spend all our money on bands,” Allerton replied.
“We’ll get more money. P’raps the Unknown will fork over another wad for the good of the cause.”
“Tell you what I’ll do,” said Collins, catching some of the children’s enthusiasm, “I’ll play for nothing, myself, and perhaps some of the other men will. Those that insist on money will get two dollars apiece.”
Becky took her badge from her pocket and pinned it on the tailor’s coat.
“You’re the right stuff, Ed,” she remarked. “But don’t show your badge to anyone until Saturday; and don’t blab about the parade, either. We want to surprise folks.”
The band appeared in force at one o’clock on Saturday afternoon, meeting the Marching Club on the Daring grounds, as had been arranged. The musicians wore their best uniforms and looked very impressive with their glittering horns and their drums. Ed whispered to Don and Allerton that seven of the twelve had agreed to donate their services, so the total cost of the band would be but ten dollars.
This was good news, indeed. The youthful officers quickly formed their ranks, for every boy and girl was excited over the important event and very proud to be a member of the Marching Club.
Judith and Phoebe came out to see the parade start and they thought these bright and eager young folks could not fail to impress their belief in Toby Clark’s innocence on all who witnessed this day’s demonstration.
The children had “chipped in” whatever money they could command to pay the village sign painter for lettering in big black letters on white cloth three huge banners, which had been framed and were to be carried in the parade. The first, which the butcher’s big boy carried just in front of the band, read:
“THE TOBY CLARK MARCHING CLUB.”
The second, which was borne in the center of the procession, said:
“WE KNOW THAT TOBY CLARK IS INNOCENT.”
The third sign, carried in the rear ranks, was as follows:
“JOIN US IN DEMANDING JUSTICE FOR TOBT.
YOU MIGHT BE FALSELY ACCUSED YOUBSBLF SOME DAY.”
This last was so big that it required two to carry it, and four guy-ropes, gayly decorated with colored ribbons, were held by four of the girls to give it more steadiness. In addition to these, two big American flags were carried in the line.
Don took his place at the head of the First Division, just behind the band. Allerton commanded the Second Division. Doris and Becky walked at either side, armed with bundles of handbills which Allerton had printed, urging the public to defend Toby Clark in every possible way, because he was helpless to defend himself.
Then the band struck up a spirited march tune and started down the street with the Marching Club following in splendid order and keeping fairly good step with the music. The white sashes and caps gave the children an impressive appearance and their earnest faces were very good to behold.
To most of the Riverdale people the parade was a real surprise and all were astonished by the numbers and soldierly bearing of the youthful participants. Many a cheer greeted them in the down-town districts, where numerous farmers and their families, who had come to Riverdale for their Saturday shopping, helped to swell the crowd of spectators.
“They ought to told us ‘bout this,” said Tom Eat bun the grocer to the group standing outside his store. “We’d ‘a’ decorated the town, to give the kids a send-off. I’ve got a sneakin’ notion, myself, as Toby is guilty, but that don’t cut no ice if it amuses the kids to think as he’s inner-cent.”
“Pah!” returned Griggs the carpenter, with scornful emphasis, “I’m ‘shamed o’ you, Tom Eat bun. Can you look in the faces o’ them chidern, who all know Toby better’n we grown-ups, an’ then say the boy’s guilty?”
“They ain’t got no sense; they’re jest kids,” retorted the grocer.
“Sense? They’re full o’ sense, ‘cause they ain’t prejudiced an’ stubborn, like us old ones,” claimed the carpenter. “Children has intuitions; they’ve a way of tellin’ the true from the false in a second, without any argyment. You might fool one youngster, p’raps, but when you see a whole crowd like this declarin’ the innercence of one who they knows through an’ through, you can bet your bottom dollar they’re right!”
A good many thought and argued as old Griggs did; those who had formerly condemned Toby became thoughtful and began to reconsider their judgment; even the most rabid believers in the boy’s guilt were silent in the face of this impressive demonstration and forbore any remarks that might irritate the youthful champions.
The one exception was Dave Hunter, who had developed so strong an antipathy toward Toby that nothing seemed to mollify it. The telegraph office was at the railway station and as Dave stood outside with Wakefield, the station agent, watching the parade pass, he said sneeringly:
“The little fools! What good can they do? We’re not the judge and jury, and if we were we wouldn’t be influenced by a lot of crazy little beggars marching.”
“You’re ‘way off, Dave,” replied Wakefield. “Nothing influences one more than the pleading of children. We can’t tell yet who the jury will be, but if any of them happen to see this parade to-day you can gamble that the opinion of these marchers will have a lot of weight with them.”
“There’s nothing sound in their opinion; it’s mere sentiment,” growled Dave.
“Sentiment? Well, that counts for a good deal in this world,” observed Wakefield, an older and more experienced man. “These children are dear to a lot of folks, who will side with t
hem first and last; not through cold reason, but through sentiment.”
Indeed, almost every parent in Riverdale had a boy or girl in the parade and was proud to own it. Parents usually stand by their children when they evince generosity and loyalty and it is certain that the effect of this great parade helped the cause of Toby Clark more than its organizers suspected.
Don and Becky Daring and the Randolphs believed firmly in Toby’s innocence, but were animated as much by the novelty and excitement of promoting the Marching Club as by the belief that they could assist their friend by its means. Yet the fun of the undertaking did not lead them to forget the original cause and when the parade reached Mr. Spaythe’s house it halted and gave three rousing cheers for Toby Clark, afterward standing at attention while the band played through an entire tune. The crowd that had assembled called loudly for Toby, but the poor boy was hidden behind the curtains of a window, trying to see his loyal army through the blinding tears that streamed from his eyes. Toby couldn’t have spoken a word had he appeared, there was such a hard lump in his throat; but he kept repeating to himself, over and over again:
“It’s worth it all! It’s worth anything that can happen to know I am so loved and respected by all the boys and girls. I don’t care, now. Let em do their worst. I’m happy!”
After more cheers the procession moved on and as the sound of the music died away in the distance, Toby Clark, in the seclusion of his room, fell on his knees and earnestly thanked God for giving him such friends.
CHAPTER XVI
HOW MRS. RITCHIE CHIDED HER LAWYER
The parade was the one topic of conversation in the village. The editor of the Riverdale News, Mr. Fellows, interviewed Don and Allerton, got the name of every member of the Marching Club and published the list incident to a two-column article in his paper, in which he sided with the children and strongly espoused the cause of Toby Clark. Mr. Fellows always liked to side with popular opinion and he shrewdly guessed that the children voiced the sentiment of the majority of Riverdale citizens. The editor rendered Sam Parsons very uneasy by concluding his article with a demand that the guilty person be discovered, so as to free Toby from any further suspicion, and he stated that if Mr. Holbrook, the lawyer defending Toby, and the village officers — meaning of course the constable — were unable to find the real criminal and bring him to justice, then outside aid should be summoned and detectives brought from the city.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 357