“Excuse me, but I am sorry to state we have no license,” returned Andy frankly. “We did not expect to make any sales here, but were going straight through to Elizabeth.”
“Very likely,” sneered the man, who was a special officer attached to the police department. “But I saw you make the sale, and you must come with me.”
“Oh, Andy, let us pay the license,” exclaimed Matt, in a low voice, as visions of a week or a month in jail floated before his mind. It would be simply terrible to be locked up.
“That’s what we will have to do,” returned Andy, 78 who had been through such a predicament before, and was not, therefore, greatly alarmed. “Don’t be afraid; we will come out all right. Only it will cost us two or three dollars.”
“I don’t care if it costs fifty—I don’t want to run afoul of the law,” returned Matt bluntly.
“Nor do I,” returned his partner.
“Well, what do you say?” demanded the officer sharply.
“We will go with you and pay the license,” replied Andy.
“All right.”
“Will you ride with us?”