The idiot took the letter and read:
DEAR MR. BOLAND: I need your help. Mr. Johnson, a friend of Stanley's—his best friend—is up here from Arizona upon business of the utmost importance, both to himself and Stanley.
I have only this moment had word that Mr. Johnson is in the most serious trouble. To be plain, he is in Vesper Jail. There has been foul play, part and parcel of a conspiracy directed against Stanley. Please come at once. I claim your promise.
Mary Selden
Ferdie handed it back.
"My friend's friend is my friend? And so on, ad infinitum, like fleas with little fleas to bite 'em—that sort of thing—what? Does that let me in? I seem to qualify in a small-flealike way."
"You bet you do, old chap! That's the spirit! Do you rush up and present my profound apologies to the ladies—important business matter. I'll be getting out the buzz wagon. You shall see Mary Selden. You shall also see how right well and featly our no-bél and intrepid young hero bore himself, just a-pitchin' and a-rarin', when inclination jibed with jooty!"
Two minutes later they took the curve by the big gate on two wheels. As they straightened into the river road, Mr. Sedgwick spread one hand over his heart, rolled his eyes heavenward and observed with fine dramatic effect:
"'I claim your pr-r-r-r-omise'!"
Mr. Johnson sat in a cell of Vesper Jail, charged with assault and battery in the _n_th degree; drunk and disorderly understood, but that charge unpreferred as yet. It is no part of legal method to bring one accused of intoxication before the magistrate at once, so that the judicial mind may see for itself. By this capital arrangement, the justly intoxicated may be acquitted for lack of convincing evidence, after they have had time to sober up; while the unjustly accused, who should go free on sight, are at the mercy of such evidence as the unjust accuser sees fit to bring or send.