To cap it all, Sebastian got in jail. It was that old coal-stealing ruse of his practised once too often. He got up on a car one evening while Jennie and the children waited for him, and a railroad detective arrested him. There had been a good deal of coal stealing during the past two years, but so long as it was confined to moderate quantities the railroad took no notice. When, however, customers of shippers complained that cars from the Pennsylvania fields lost thousands of pounds in transit to Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago, and other points, detectives were set to work. Gerhardt’s children were not the only ones who preyed upon the railroad in this way. Other families in Columbus—many of them—were constantly doing the same thing, but Sebastian happened to be seized upon as the Columbus example. “You come off that car now,” said the detective, suddenly appearing out of the shadow. Jennie and the other children dropped their baskets and buckets and fled for their lives. Sebastian’s first impulse was to jump and run, but when he tried it the detective grabbed him by the coat. “Hold on here,” he exclaimed. “I want you.” “Aw, let go,” said Sebastian savagely, for he was no weakling. There was nerve and determination in him, as well as a keen sense of his awkward predicament. “Let go, I tell you,” he reiterated, and giving a jerk, he almost upset his captor. “Come here now,” said the detective, pulling him viciously in an effort to establish his authority. Sebastian came, but it was with a blow which staggered his adversary. There was more struggling, and then a passing railroad hand came to the detective’s assistance. Together they hurried him toward the depôt, and there discovering the local officer, turned him over. It was with a torn coat, scarred hands and face, and a black eye that Sebastian was locked up for the night. When the children came home they could not say what had happened to their brother, but as nine o’clock struck, and then ten and eleven, and Sebastian did not return, Mrs. Gerhardt was beside herself. He had stayed out many a night as late as twelve and one, but his mother had a foreboding of something terrible tonight. When half-past one arrived, and no Sebastian, she began to cry. “Some one ought to go up and tell your father,” she said. “He may be in jail.” Jennie volunteered, but George, who was soundly sleeping, was awakened to go along with her. “What!” said Gerhardt, astonished to see his two children. “Bass hasn’t come yet,” said Jennie, and then told the story of the evening’s adventure in explanation. Gerhardt left his work at once, walking back with his two children to a point where he could turn off to go to the jail. He guessed what had happened, and his heart was troubled. “Is that so, now!” he repeated nervously, rubbing his clumsy hands across his wet forehead. Arrived at the station-house, the sergeant in charge told him curtly that Bass was under arrest.