"Two new tires, Caroline," amended Harry Squires.
"And carrying a tin safe with George W. Brubaker's name on it in red letters. Say that a complete description of the robbers will follow. Is your ma still in bed?"
"Yes, she is."
"Well, you tell her I'll be home soon as I capture them desperadoes." He was moving toward the front gate. Caroline's paraphrase pursued him and left a sting:
"What is home without a father!"
Followed now a lengthy and at times acrimonious argument as to the further operations of the marshal's posse.
"We're losing valuable time," protested Harry Squires at the end of a half-hour's fertile discussion. Fertile is here employed instead of futile, for never was there a more extensive crop of ideas raised by human agency.
"We can't do anything till we find out which way the derned rascals went, can we?" said Mr. Crow bitingly. "We got to find somebody that seen 'em start off in that automobile. We—"
"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Harry. "We've got to split up into parties and follow every road out of Tinkletown."
"How in thunder do you expect me to lead five or six different posses?" demanded Anderson.