The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him Page 13

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE CASE.

  Peter went to work the next morning at an hour which most of us, if weare indiscreet enough to wake, prefer to use as the preface to a furthertwo to four hours' nap. He had spent his evening in a freshening of hisknowledge in certain municipal laws, and other details which he thoughthe might need, and as early as five o clock he was at work in thetenement district, asking questions and taking notes. The inquiry tooklittle skill The milk had come from the cart of a certain company, whichpassed daily through the locality, not to supply orders, but to peddlemilk to whoever cared to buy. Peter had the cart pointed out thatmorning, but, beyond making a note of the exact name of the company, hepaid no attention to it. He was aiming at bigger game than a milk cartor its driver.

  His work was interrupted only by his taking Mrs. Dooley and the twochildren to the train. That done, Peter walked northwardly andwestwardly, till he had nearly reached the river front. It took somelittle inquiry, but after a while he stumbled on a small shanty whichhad a sign:

  NATIONAL MILK COMPANY.

  OFFICE.

  The place, however, was closed and no one around seemed connected withit, though a number of milk carts were standing about. Close to thesewas a long line of sheds, which in turn backed up against a greatbrewery. A couple of men lounged at the door of the sheds. Peter walkedup to them, and asked if they could tell him where he could find any oneconnected with the milk company.

  "The boss is off for lunch," said one. "I can take an order, if that'swhat you want."

  Peter said it was not an order, and began chatting with the men. Beforehe had started to question them, a third man, from inside the sheds,joined the group at the door.

  "That cow's dead," he remarked as he came up.

  "Is it?" said the one called Bill. Both rose, and went into the shed.Peter started to go with them.

  "You can't come in," said the new-comer.

  But Peter passed in, without paying the least attention to him.

  "Come back," called the man, following Peter.

  Peter turned to him: "You are one of the employees of the National MilkCompany?" he asked.

  "Yes," said the man, "and we have orders--"

  Peter usually let a little pause occur after a remark to him, but inthis case he spoke before the man completed his speech. He spoke, too,with an air of decision and command that quieted the man.

  "Go back to your work," he said, "and don't order me round. I know whatI'm about." Then he walked after the other two men as rapidly as thedimness permitted. The employee scratched his head, and then followed.

  Dim as the light was, Peter could discern that he was passing betweentwo rows of cows, with not more than space enough for men to pass eachother between the rows. It was filthy, and very warm, and there was apeculiar smell in the air which Peter did not associate with a cowstable. It was a kind of vapor which brought some suggestion to hismind, yet one he could not identify. Presently he came upon the two men.One had lighted a lantern and was examining a cow that lay on theground. That it was dead was plain. But what most interested Peter,although he felt a shudder of horror at the sight, were the rotted tailand two great sores on the flank that lay uppermost.

  "That's a bad-looking cow," he said.

  "Ain't it?" replied the one with the lantern. "But you can't help theirhavin' them, if you feed them on mash."

  "Hold your tongue, Bill," said the man who had followed Peter.

  "Take some of your own advice," said Peter, turning quickly, andspeaking in a voice that made the man step back. A terrible feeling waswelling up in Peter's heart. He thought of the poor littlefever-stricken children. He saw the poor fever-stricken cow. He wouldlike to--to--.

  He dropped the arm he had unconsciously raised. "Give me that lantern,"he demanded.

  The man hesitated and looked at the others.

  "Give me that lantern," said Peter, speaking low, but his voice ringingvery clear.

  The lantern was passed to him, and taking it, he walked along the lineof cows. He saw several with sores more or less developed. One or two hesaw in the advanced stages of the disease, where the tail had begun torot away. The other men followed him on his tour of inspection, andwhispered together nervously. It did not take Peter long to examine allhe wanted to see. Handing back the lantern at the door, he said: "Giveme your names."

  The men looked nonplussed, and shifted their weights uneasily from legto leg.

  "You," said Peter, looking at the man who had interfered with him.

  "Wot do yer want with it?" he was asked.

  "That's my business. What's your name?"

  "John Tingley."

  "Where do you live?"

  "310 West 61st Street."

  Peter obtained and wrote down the names and addresses of the trio. Hethen went to the "office" of the company, which was now opened.

  "Is this an incorporated company?" he asked of the man tilted back in achair.

  "No," said the man, adding two chair legs to terra firma, and looking atPeter suspiciously.

  "Who owns it?" Peter queried.

  "I'm the boss."

  "That isn't what I asked."

  "That's what I answered."

  "And your name is?"

  "James Coldman."

  "Do you intend to answer my question?"

  "Not till I know your business."

  "I'm here to find out against whom to get warrants for a criminalprosecution."

  "For what?"

  "The warrant will say."

  The man squirmed in his chair. "Will you give me till to-morrow?"

  "No. The warrant is to be issued to-day. Decide at once, whether you oryour principal, shall be the man to whom it shall be served."

  "I guess you'd better make it against me," said the man.

  "Very well," said Peter. "Of course you know your employer will be rundown, and as I'm not after the rest of you, you will only get him a fewdays safety at the price of a term in prison."

  "Well, I've got to risk it," said the man.

  Peter turned and walked away. He went down town to the Blacketts.

  "I want you to carry the matter to the courts," he told the father."These men deserve punishment, and if you'll let me go on with it, itshan't cost you anything; and by bringing a civil suit as well, you'llprobably get some money out of it."

  Blackett gave his assent. So too did Patrick Milligan, and "Moike"Dooley. They had won fame already by the deaths and wakes, but a "coortcase" promised to give them prestige far beyond what even thesedistinctions conferred. So the three walked away proudly with Peter, andwarrants were sworn to and issued against the "boss" as principal, andthe driver and the three others as witnesses, made returnable on thefollowing morning. On many a doorstep of the district, that night,nothing else was talked of, and the trio were the most envied men in theneighborhood. Even Mrs. Blackett and Ellen Milligan forgot their grief,and held a joint _soiree_ on their front stoop.

  "Shure, it's mighty hard for Mrs. Dooley, that she's away!" said one."She'll be feeling bad when she knows what she's missed."

  The next morning, Peter, the two doctors, the Blacketts, the Milligans,Dooley, the milk quintet, and as many inhabitants of the "district" ascould crush their way in, were in court by nine o'clock. The plaintiffsand their friends were rather disappointed at the quietness of theproceedings. The examinations were purely formal except in one instance,when Peter asked for the "name or names of the owner or owners" of theNational Milk Company. Here the defendant's attorney, a shrewd criminallawyer, interfered, and there was a sharp passage at arms, in which anattempt was made to anger Peter. But he kept his head, and in the endcarried his point. The owner turned out to be the proprietor of thebrewery, as Peter had surmised, who thus utilized the mash from his vatsin feeding cattle. But on Peter's asking for an additional warrantagainst him, the defendant's lawyer succeeded in proving, if thestatement of the overseer proved it, that the brewer was quite ignorantthat the milk sold in the "distri
ct" was what had been unsalable the daybefore to better customers, and that the skimming and doctoring of itwas unknown to him. So an attempt to punish the rich man as a criminalwas futile. He could afford to pay for straw men.

  "Arrah!" said Dooley to Peter as they passed out of the court, "Oi thinkye moight have given them a bit av yer moind."

  "Wait till the trial," said Peter. "We mustn't use up our powder on theskirmish line."

  So the word was passed through the district that "theer'd be fun at therale trial," and it was awaited with intense interest by five thousandpeople.