"To-night."
"Yes."
"If you’re not there——"
"Don’t worry."
"There’s no moon," said somebody.
"Somebody bring a few bicycle lamps," suggested Darrell. "We’ll manage to get along."
Then he turned and walked away.
Uric Scudder had been a witness, and he improved the first opportunity to whisper in the ear of the panting, anger-shaken Jabez:
"Well, you are getting it in the neck! Lost all your own money and all you could borrow betting against Fardale last week, and now nobody wants anything to do with you. You turned up your nose at me, did you? Well, I’m thought just about as much of around here now as you are."
"Get away from me—get away!" grated Lynch. "I’m in an ugly temper now."