“And I had the telegram to call him off in my pocket,” explained Mr. Elder.
“Then he wa’n’t goin’ to be arrested?”
Mr. Elder shook his head, and laughed again.
“Well,” said Mr. Camp dolefully, “ye might as well kill a feller as skeer him to death.”
Mr. Elder paced the floor a few moments. Then he asked:
“Where is Bud?”
“I’d a brung him, but we was scart he’d be put in jail. He’s down to the livery stable.”
“Can’t you all come back here in an hour,” asked Mr. Elder after another pause, “and bring Bud with you?”
“That’s our business to-day,” chuckled Mr. Camp.