It was pure good fortune that led Hoke thus to appeal to the only person whom the hobo held in dread, for the youth knew nothing of what had occurred previously. He was doubtful about calling upon Uncle Elk, and another Boy Scout did not seem a formidable enough reinforcement. Scout Master Hall would have served, but Hoke did not think of him.
Mr. Buzby Biggs heard the shouted words and could not forget that the physician was the owner of firearms and did not seem reluctant to use them. Although the two vagrants had been spared, it was doubtful whether mercy would be shown them again. Despite his attempt to bluff, the tramp could not repress a tremor in his voice.
“What’s he calling that ’ere doctor fur?”
“I think he remarked a remark about telling him to hurry up. Av coorse ye will be glad to meet the docther agin.”
“Not by a blamed sight; him and me don’t speak as we pass by.”
“He prefers to spake wid his revolver, I belave.”
Mike had been instant to read the trick of Hoke, and he helped all he could. Biggs was in such a fright he could not hide it. The last person in the world whom he wished to meet was the medical man. He turned to imitate the action of Hoke Butler.
“Howld on! None of that!” commanded Mike in such a peremptory voice that Biggs with hands on the logs in front and one foot raised, checked himself and looked around.
“What do yer want?” he growled; “hain’t I a right to leave my home when I please?”
“Which is what Jimmy Jones said when the sheriff stopped him as he was breaking-jail. You don’t want to bump up agin the docther whin he has that pill box in his hand. See here, Biggs, I’ll let you go on one condition.”