"That's so, Spotty. Well, I didn't expect to see you here, I give you my word. When did you leave New York?"
"Well, I come away—"
"Hold on!" interrupted the colonel. "Don't answer. I shouldn't have asked. I forgot you saved my life just now. Gad! it isn't the first time I've nearly passed over, but—not in that way!" and he reached for his glass to conceal the shudder that passed over him as he thought of the rumbling wheels of the thundering truck.
"Well, Colonel, I—"
"Never mind, Spotty. Perhaps the less you talk the better off you'll be. Does anybody in town know you're here?"
"Well, my picture—"
"Yes, it is probably down at headquarters. But they're too busy to look for it now. But they may—later. So far you haven't been recognized then?"
"Only by you, and it'd take a pretty clever guy—"
"No compliments, Spotty. We've gotten over that. You disguised yourself very well, but the freckles show through."
"Yes, damn 'em!" heartily exploded the gunman. "I can't cover 'em up. I've tried everything, but I guess I'll have to go togged up like a colored man to fool the other bulls. As for you, Colonel—"