Pape hurried into the stable and the whinnied greeting of his three-hued best friend. His change into riding clothes took no more time than was needed by the groom to put Polkadot into his leather. He was riding out the main “gate,” his mind upon the plan that had come with the speed of inspiration, when——
“Pardon my persistence, Mr. Pape, but that’s what I’m hired for.”
He had “stuck around,” the thin-voiced, thin-mustached, thin-visaged weakling; was blocking the exit; now incensed Dot by a curbing hand on the bridle rein.
Hurriedly Pape considered whether to jump the horse past the human barrier or to temporize. Fearing delay from more entanglement in the city’s red tape, he made an overture.
“If persistence is what you’re hired for, how much to give up?”
“To give up—just what?”
“Whatever you’re hired to run me down for. At that it looks to me as if you were working on the wrong job.”
The youth straightened with some show of self-respect. “Right or wrong it’s regular—a steady job for life if I do my part.”
“For life?” Pape snorted. “You don’t mean to say you’re going to persist after me for life?”
“Until you come across, sir——”