"Stop nothin'! 'T was a string o' empties. Dave jumped it, all right. An' I 'd hoof it all d' way to Sante Fe to see him swing."
"Deuced good sentiment, by Jove. Here, you need—well, a number of things, don't you know."
Boomerang gazed after the departing Englishman and blinked rapidly at the bill in his hand. Did he or did he not see a zero following that two? With a fervent prayer for sanity he carefully tucked it out of sight.
Whitby returned to Hopalong as much elated as previously he had been cast down. "We have the bally blackguard," was his glad assurance.
"Where?" asked Hopalong; "in yore pocket, or yore hat, or only in yore mind." Whitby explained and Hopalong promptly appealed to the station agent.
It was a weary wait. Whitby, a patient man himself, found occasion to admire the motionless relaxation of Hopalong, who appeared to be storing energy until such time as he would require it. To Whitby, who was well acquainted with the jungle of India, it was the inertia of the tiger, waiting for the dusk.
The station door opened again but this time with a snappier purpose that seemed promising. Whitby turned his head. The railroader nodded as one well satisfied with himself. "Got your man," he announced, with a grin of congratulation. "He dropped off at X——. Don't seem a whole lot scared. Took a room at th' hotel. Goin' to turn him over to the sheriff?"
"No," answered Hopalong, "an' I don't want nothin' to get out here, sabe? If it does, yo 're th' huckleberry. When 's th' next train East?"
"It's past due, but it 'll be along in twenty minutes."
"I 'll take a ticket," and Hopalong rose to his feet and followed him into the station. He returned shortly, to apologize for leaving Whitby behind. "I know you 'd like to go, Whit, but you ought to find out about that money. Better stay here an' see them bank people in th' mornin'."