"Who goes there?"
"Friends!" faltered Mrs. Crow.
"The marshal of Tinkletown," added Anderson, vastly relieved by her singularly intelligent answer.
"Advance and give the countersign!"
"All right. What is it?" inquired Mrs. Crow.
A couple of non-commissioned officers joined the sentry at this moment. They were but half dressed.
"What the devil's the meaning of all this?" exclaimed one of them, planting himself beside the car and flashing a light in Mrs. Crow's face. "Don't you hayseeds know any better than to bust into a military camp—"
His companion interrupted him. "Keep your shirt on, Bill. Didn't I hear the man say he was the marshal of Tinkletown?"
"No, sir, you didn't! I said we are the marshal of Tinkletown. I—"
"All right, all right. Do you happen to be chasin' a gang of joy-riders?"