He scratched his head in perplexity for a minute and then started toward the barn. Scott punched Mac in the ribs and they both followed. At the barn Dick repeated the performance. When his leaves were all piled he remembered the horses. Again he stopped and scratched his head. “No gentleman would burn a horse,” he mumbled.
For a moment he stared helplessly about him. Then he seemed to get an idea. He made his way uncertainly to the door of the barn and disappeared inside. They watched to see that he did not strike a match, but did not interfere with him. After a considerable time he stumbled out leading two sleepy horses. He turned them loose outside and went back for two more. The first pair, finding themselves free and having no desire to go to work at that time of the night went back into the barn. Dick stopped and looked at them wonderingly as he led out two more.
Scott and Mac were almost in hysterics. “Let me handle him,” Scott whispered.
“Hello, Dick!” Scott exclaimed, suddenly, “what are you doing out here at this time of night?”
Dick dropped the halters of the horses he was leading and braced himself as though he expected somebody to jump on him.
“Why don’t you come inside and go to bed? It’s late,” Scott continued.
Dick relaxed when he saw he was in no immediate danger of attack, and winked at them knowingly. “Didn’t you give me my time?” he asked.
“Give you your time!” Scott exclaimed. “Certainly we gave you your time, but you were drunk then. You’re sober now. Why don’t you let Foster Wait get somebody else to do his dirty work for him? No gentleman would want to burn another man’s buildings.”
Dick looked at him uncertainly for a minute and then straightened up with painful dignity.
“That’s right,” he said. “That’s what I was going to tell him. No gentleman would burn a horse.”