"But I got here first," protested Bud, and there might have been something more sanguinary than mere words if Marshal Crow had not interfered.
"None o' that, now! What's the matter, Bud?"
"Somethin' turrible has happened, Mr. Crow—somethin' awfully turrible," wheezed the boy.
"If you derned little scalawags have run all the way from town to tell me that Smock's warehouse is on fire, you'd—"
"Oh, gee, that ain't nothin'!" gulped Bud. "Wait till you hear what I know."
"I can't wait all night. I got to save Mr. Pratt's studio, an'—"
"Well, you know them two tramps you put in the lock-up yesterday afternoon?" cried Bud.
"Desperit characters, both of 'em. I figgered they was up to some devilment an—"
"Well, they ain't in any more; they're out. Ros an' me seen the whole business. We wuz—"
"Geminy crickets! What's this? A jail-break? Out of the way, everybody! Two desperit villains are loose in town, an—"