Desperation was written on Sube's face as he turned from the barber shop and entered a nearby alley, where he sought to relieve his troubled spirit by kicking an old tin pail, smashing several bottles, and stoning a cat. But in spite of these pleasant diversions everything was going wrong, and everybody was against him.
"Even the weather's gone back on me," he muttered as a raindrop struck his face.
He was beginning to comprehend why some men turn outlaw. He stepped into a shed to make up his mind whether to get wet or to be late for school, although he knew in advance that it would never do for him to get wet. On entering the shed he observed a threshing outfit that had been stored for the winter. At the sight an idea began to sprout.
He turned and looked across the alley into the rear windows of Morton & Company, General Insurance, where his eye fell on a telephone standing on a desk not far from the back door. Whereupon the idea stepped from his brain fully grown and ready for action.
Without a moment's hesitation he pulled his cap on securely and made a dash for Morton's back door. It was unlocked. He opened it cautiously and peered inside. The office was vacant. He caught up the telephone and called for McInness's barber shop with a sharp nasal inflection that sounded not at all like himself.
"Is Doc Richards there?" he asked nervously as soon as he heard the barber's voice.
The barber turned from the telephone. "Are you here, Doc," he asked.
"They told me at his office he was there!" cried Sube in the strange voice.
"He wants to know what you want," returned the barber.