XI
Into the waiting room. Bassett shoved the still conscious man under a bench and met the blue-coated officer nonchalantly.
“Looking for any one?”
“Why, yes.”
“Who—whom?”
“Oh, only Jud Clark. They say there’s a reward on his head.”
Just then the still conscious man rolled out from under the bench. The officer sprang forward and snatched the hat from his head.
“Nope!” he said, “not him—nothing there but hair.”
“Who are you?”
“The sheriff of this county.”
“Gosh! I am relieved! I thought you were the prohibition officer.”
Again he lifted the still conscious man on his shoulder.
“Where are we going now?” asked Dick.
“New York,” said Bassett.