Jurgis sat dumb with dismay.
"Why, he can send you to Joliet, if he wants to!" declared the other.
"Can't I have Scully get me off before he finds out about it?" asked Jurgis, at length.
"But Scully's out of town," the other answered. "I don't even know where he is—he's run away to dodge the strike."
That was a pretty mess, indeed. Poor Jurgis sat halfdazed. His pull had run up against a bigger pull, and he was down and out! "But what am I going to do?" he asked, weakly.
"How should I know?" said the other. "I shouldn't even dare to get bail for you—why, I might ruin myself for life!"
Again there was silence. "Can't you do it for me," Jurgis asked, "and pretend that you didn't know who I'd hit?"
"But what good would that do you when you came to stand trial?" asked Harper. Then he sat buried in thought for a minute or two. "There's nothing—unless it's this," he said. "I could have your bail reduced; and then if you had the money you could pay it and skip."
"How much will it be?" Jurgis asked, after he had had this explained more in detail.
"I don't know," said the other. "How much do you own?"
"I've got about three hundred dollars," was the answer.
"Well," was Harper's reply, "I'm not sure, but I'll try and get you off for that. I'll take the risk for friendship's sake—for I'd hate to see you sent to state's prison for a year or two."
And so finally Jurgis ripped out his bank-book—which was sewed up in his trousers—and signed an order, which "Bush" Harper wrote, for all the money to be paid out. Then the latter went and got it, and hurried to the court, and explained to the magistrate that Jurgis was a decent fellow and a friend of Scully's, who had been attacked by a strike-breaker. So the bail was reduced to
