"It's a darn good idee," Tony defended hastily. "They could guess everything else and lay plans to block it, but they couldn't guess we'd pull off anything like that. First off, we better ride to Delkin's stable and put him wise. Our horses is our excuse for going there."
Stirrups tangled, they rode so close together. Often a man would break into laughter and glance back at the trail to see if Palmer was still following them. They trotted up to the very door of Delkin's stable, ducked heads and rode inside, where they dismounted and unsaddled without help or interference from the stableman, who knew them of old. When their horses were turned into the corral behind the barn, where they speedily found hay and water and a place to roll, the quartet went trooping back down the long floor, spurs jingling pleasant accompaniment to their low-voiced laughter. Slightly bowed in the legs, they were—or it may have been the permanent kink in their chaps. Twitching hats and neckerchiefs into becoming angles, lest the eye of some young woman catch them in disarray, they made for the screened door of the office, where Tony peered in, saw Delkin sitting gloomily before his desk, and pushed open the door, entering with a slight swagger.
"Oh, hello!" Delkin's eyes went from one to the other in apathetic greeting. "You boys in for a good time, eh?"
"Yeah. We just stopped by to let you in on the joke. Seen anything of Bat Johnson and the rest of the bunch from Palmer's?"
"Why, yes. They rode in an hour or so ago, I believe. They don't put up their horses when they come to town, you know. Post hay is cheaper." Delkin did not know just how much resentment was in his voice, but his mood was bitter these days.
"Well, how's the scandal comin' along, Mr. Delkin?" Tony asked cheerfully. "Still shootin' off their mouths about the Meddalark?"
"Oh, about the same, I guess. But they'll never make me believe your outfit had anything to do with it." The mind of Delkin was so obsessed with the murder and robbery that it did not occur to him that scandal could focus on anything else.
"Well, we shore appreciate that, because we got a scheme for stirrin' up the bandits some. It's my idee," Tony informed him proudly. "I'd like to see what you think of it before we git to work on it. And mebbe it might be jest as well if you'd call in some of yore bank officers, so in case of a kick-back we won't git lynched without nobody to put in a word for us. That there," he added slightingly, "is Rosy's idee. He's scared to turn himself loose like he claims he kin, unless he's shore his imagination ain't goin' to be fatal. Rosy claims he's sech an eloquent cuss he's liable to git hung. Git the men that's handiest, will you? We're darn dry, and I can't hold these pelicans away from the flowin' bowl much longer."
Delkin glanced out through the open window, got up hurriedly and called to three men who were talking on a corner across the street. One threw up his hand to show that he heard, and they came over, tapering off their conversation on the way. Inside, they looked at the four Meadowlark riders and nodded, turning inquiringly to Delkin afterwards.
"I called you in to hear something or other that these boys have framed. Don't know what it is, but it ought to work. You know the Meadowlark has the name of putting through what it starts."