Hervey tried another tack with this much-harassed man who talked shop so freely with him. “Bimbo, I feel sorry for you,” he said. The man glanced sideways at him. “Well, I reckon nobody’s going to kill you,” he said. He hurried along winding gravel walks, Hervey running to keep up with him. Soon they passed along the side of a great brick mansion covered with ivy. The windows on the ground floor were boarded up. The lawn which they crossed was shaded by mammoth elms and at a pretty granite bird bath, a robin was leisurely taking a drink, pausing like an epicure after each draught. Hervey wished that he was to be taken before the owner of this princely estate; somehow he felt that he would stand a chance with a gentleman of such wealth. He knew that wealthy gentlemen helped the Boy Scouts. But then he was no longer a scout.... With brisk concentration on a palpably unpleasant task the responsible custodian of the place passed out into the road and along it for perhaps a hundred yards where there were several houses, a couple of stores and a square white church. This was all there was of Farrelton Junction. Down in the woods was a tiny railroad station. The superintendent conducted Hervey to a white peak-roofed house almost exactly like the one he lived in. Like most New England houses it was porchless and severe. But it looked as if it had been painted only that very day. On the front door a modest sign proclaimed it to be the home of _Alden Snibbel, Justice of the Peace_. Hervey was relieved that this time it was not a police station he was to enter. Mr. Snibbel himself opened the door and immediately a delicious odor of cooking pastry was wafted to Hervey. Mr. Snibbel was coatless with suspenders conspicuously visible. He was lanky and had a sandy mustache. He was in need of shaving. He was easy and pleasant. There was no suggestion of authority or the law in the plainly furnished room where Hervey and his captor sat down on a hair-cloth sofa. A parrot in a cage said, “Here we are. Stay to dinner.” Hervey felt reassured; it was not so bad. Mr. Snibbel sat down at a flat desk and this was the only suggestion of legal formality in the whole scene. Best of all, Hervey’s captor addressed Mr. Snibbel by his first name. “Sniffs pretty good, Allie,” said he. “The wife’s making pies,” said the justice. “Get your radio fixed all right?” “Had to get a tube up to the Center. Well, here’s the first catch--hook, bait and sinker. Didn’t notice the sign a mile big, sprawled down into the flower hedge; says he was after a ball.” The justice of the peace glanced at Hervey, then back at the complainant. “I’m doing just what General Pond told me to do,” said the superintendent. “I’m bringing this youngster here for trespass. The general gave me his orders; no matter who it was, he said.”