"He hit me on top of the head," corrected Bud sourly.
"I heerd Rosalie start to scream, but the next minute they had a blanket over her head an' she was chucked into the back seat. It was all over in a second. I got up, but 'fore I could run a feller yelled, 'Ketch him!' An' another feller did. 'Don't let 'em get away,' said the driver in low, hissin' tones—"
"Regular villains," vowed Anderson.
"Yes, sir. 'Don't let 'em git away er they'll rouse the town.' 'What'll we do with 'em?' asked the feller who held both of us. 'Kill 'em?' Gosh, I was skeered. Neither one of us could yell, 'cause he had us by the neck, an' he was powerful strong. 'Chuck 'em in here an' I'll tend to 'em,' said the driver. Next thing we knowed we was in the front of the sleigh, an' the whole outfit was off like a runaway. They said they'd kill us if we made a noise, an' we didn't. I wish I'd'a' had my rifle, doggone it! I'd'a' showed 'em."
"They drove like thunder out to'rds Boggs City fer about two mile," said Bud, who had been silent as long as human nature would permit. "'Nen they stopped an' throwed us out in the road. 'Go home, you devils, an' don't you tell anybody about us er I'll come back here some day an' give you a kick in the slats.'
"Slats?" murmured Anderson.
"That's short fer ribs," explained Bud loftily.
"Well, why couldn't he have said short ribs an' been done with it?" complained Anderson.
"Then they whipped up an' turned off west in the pike," resumed Bud. "We run all the way home an' tole Mr. Lamson, an' he—"
"Where was Rosalie all this time?" asked Anderson.