“Yes, I know it only too well,” replied Andy; “I’ve worried enough about it.”
“Here comes my man, I guess,” interrupted Parks, as a portly consequential-looking person entered the room.
“I wanted to see you about this young man,” explained Parks. “They’ve shut him up here on a false charge, and I want to get him out. He’s a trusted employee of mine, and I need him badly in my business.”
“You want to give bail, do you?” inquired the sheriff.
“Every dollar I’ve got, judge,” responded the aeronaut with emphasis, “so long as he gets free.”
“The bail is two thousand dollars, and I suppose you know the bondsman must qualify as a real estate owner in the county.”
“I’m not that, judge,” said Parks, “but I’ve got some money.” He pulled out a roll of bills. “I’ve got nigh onto one thousand dollars personal property, and I’m going to earn the aviation prize down at Montrose day after to-morrow.”
“Considerably up in the air, part of your schedule, eh?” remarked the sheriff, smiling, “I’m afraid we can’t accept you as a bondsman. Residence here as a real estate owner is absolutely necessary.”
“Why, do you think I would leave you in the lurch or a boy like Andy sneak away. No sir-ree! You can trust me, Mr. Sheriff.”
“I don’t doubt that, but the law is very strict.”