“Not such a blamed long while, pard. Not many minutes passed since he left and you got here and took the lashings off me.”
Clancy pulled the door wide and stepped out into the garage.
“I can’t see anything of Pruitt,” he reported.
“’Cause why,” returned Fortune. “’Cause he’s waitin’ at Arnold’s for some un to come out and take the car off’n his hands. He’ll keep waitin’ and honkin’ the horn till somebody shows up and tells him there’s nothin’ doin’. Reckon we ort to put the police wise to this, eh?”
“By the time we got the police on the trail, Hibbard and Long Tom might be able to do their work and rush for the hills in that stolen car. Do you know how to get to Second and Cerro Gordo?”
“If I don’t, pard, nobody does. Didn’t I tell you I worked for people here? I can take you right to the place by the shortest cut.”
“Then let’s be moving. The quicker we reach the judge and tell him what is going on, the better.”
Fortune pulled on his boots and trousers. There was no use trying to put on the flannel shirt, for it was literally torn in pieces. He slipped into his coat, however, and buttoned it up.
“All ready, compadre,” he announced.
They went out through the front of the garage. Clancy hated to leave the place alone, but he reflected that Pruitt would soon be back, and that this was a case of facing circumstances as they were, and not as he would like to have them. He took the precaution of closing the big garage doors.