“What’s this Sherman fellow going to do now?” asked Jimmie.
“He’s going to try to get this smuggled whiskey into a government warehouse somewhere,” answered Mr. Havens. “I don’t know just how he’ll do it, but it’s got to be done.”
“What do we get out of it?” asked Jimmie.
“You’re the merry little savings bank boy!” laughed Ben.
“I didn’t mean money!” retorted Jimmie scornfully. “What I meant was how does all this smuggled whiskey business help us find this post-office inspector?”
“It doesn’t,” replied Ben. “Ask something hard.”
“You don’t know that yet,” advised Mr. Havens.
“Come to think of it, of course we don’t!” cried Ben. “The abductors would be apt to bring Colleton into just such a hole as this, wouldn’t they? The outlaws would, in a measure, protect them from hunters, who are said to give a wide berth to any region known to contain outlaws.”
“Well,” Jimmie cut in in a moment, “I’m going to go and get Carl, and romp merrily off to the hay. We didn’t have any sleep last night and I guess we can get in a few lines of slumber to pretty good purpose.”
“Then you’ll be ready for another crazy midnight trip,” smiled Ben.