“Thet’s the size on’t,” grinned Stebbins. I felt like pulling his whiskers, he seemed to enjoy the situation so much. I wasn’t alarmed over the outcome, but I didn’t relish being held up to view in that community after I had gone through so much trouble to fix things.
“And,” I went on sneeringly, “they held the train here until you came?”
“Thet’s wot ‘Spress’ sed he’d dew, an’ he done et, b’ gosh!”
I could have choked Babbitt had I had his little chicken neck in my hands at the moment.
“I hed tew drive five mile, en like sixty, tew,” Stebbins said, as he walked me to a steaming team at the side of the depot. At my request he drove to Eagle Hotel, where I got him in excellent humor through frequent libations in the bar-room.
“Wal, b’ gummany Christmus!” he finally said, with a silly grin, “I give ye more credit ’an ye hev. Thought ye’d hev better sense ’an t’ run kerslam inter my paws. I’ve ben waitin’ t’ git my hooks onter ye ever sense ye bruck outen jail.”
The rascal! I saw at once that he had his mind on getting a reward for my capture, evidently not having heard that both indictments had been done away with.
“Ah, Stebbins, my good fellow, I see you’re after the thousand,” I said, after he had finished taking his measure of my shrewdness.
“Ye kin betcher bottom cent on’t—sartin! Why not?”
“That’s so, sheriff! Yes; why not?” I returned, laughingly. “But what are you going to do with me first?”