“Oh, I could make it pretty near that,” said the Texan.
“How?”
“Those lectures never last later than ten. I’d have a cab take Mabel home, drop her, and have cabby land me at this ranch in double-quick order.”
“Well, you ought to thank your luck that you’re not compelled to listen to that lecture. Don’t you hear lectures enough?”
“Listen!” snorted Buckhart. “What’s the matter with you, pard? You don’t suppose I was going to that lecture with the idea of listening to it, do you? I was going to take a girl—the girl—the only girl. I was going to steal a lap on Claxton. I wouldn’t care if the old lecture was about the Hottentots or the Zulus. Partner, I’m going to get into that lecture if I have to pay a ten-dollar premium on tickets. You hear me warble!”
“You’d better forget it,” said Dick.
But the Texan did not forget it, and on Thursday he triumphantly announced that he had secured tickets by paying double price for them.
“Well, you’d better consult Jones about staying out after ten to-night,” advised Dick.
Brad consulted Blessed and was given permission to attend the lecture on his pledge to lose no time about getting to bed after it was over.
“Going to do this thing up brown, partner,” chuckled Buckhart, as he dressed that evening. “My carriage will call for me at seven-thirty. If you happen to see Claxy this evening, be good enough to find a way to tell him that I’ve taken Miss Ditson to the lecture. That sure ought to bump him some.”