"Well, be it so; and then, Buck, we'll have to proceed to the office."
"Waiter, bring me a couple of bottles of your English ale," says the Hon. Mr. Buck.
"Yes, sir."
"And I'll see to the bill, Sheriff, while the waiter brings the ale," said the Ex-M. C., leaving the room "for a moment," to speak to the landlord.
"Landlord," says the Diddler, "do you know that gentleman with whom I've dined in 15?"
"No, I don't," says the landlord.
"Well," continues Diddler, "I've no particular acquaintance with him; he invited me here to dine; I suppose he intends to pay for what he ordered, but (whispering) you had better get your money before he gets out of that room!"
"Oh! oh! coming that are dodge, eh? I'll show him!" said the burly landlord, making tracks for the room, from which the Sheriff was now emerging, to look after his prisoner.
"There's for the ale," says the Diddler, placing half a dollar in the waiter's hand; "I ordered that, and there's for it." So saying, he vamosed.
"Say, but look here, Buck, I say, hold on; I've got a writ, and—"