When they had gone, the bank president sat back in his chair as if in deep thought for some minutes. Then he took his hat and walked hastily out of his room and through the bank. Mr. Elder went directly to the county courthouse. There, after using the telephone, he was joined by a lawyer—but not Attorney Cyrus Stockwell. Then the two men hastened to the private office of the judge of the county court, after which they went to the office of the attorney who had been summoned by telephone.
From this office, another telephone message was sent out, and in response to that, Attorney Cyrus Stockwell was soon hastening toward Mr. Elder’s lawyer’s office. Here there was apparently an animated conference. When President Elder finally made his way back to his own office, it was fifteen minutes after the appointed time. “Stump” Camp, Bud and their gypsy friends were waiting patiently under the bank awning.
With only a hasty grip of Bud’s hand, Mr. Elder led the party into the private office once more. He motioned them to chairs, and then, with a quick business air, drew out a deed, legally describing the Reed-Wilson farm and arranged it for the Stanleys to sign. They did it with apparent pleasure. Then he read it aloud. The consideration named was one hundred and fifty dollars. Bud pricked up his ears.
“Mr. Stanley,” explained the banker, “your friend Bud has some peculiar business ideas. He has just saved our fair association a good deal of trouble. He didn’t save us any money, but we’ve concluded that he saved our pride, and we agreed Saturday night to pay him three hundred dollars for what he’d done.”
Bud tried to speak.
“’Tain’t your time, yet, young man,” interrupted the banker. “I’m goin’ to pay these honest people one hundred and fifty dollars for their trouble in comin’ in here.”
Mr. Elder stepped out into the banking room, and a moment later returned with two packages of one hundred and fifty dollars each. One he handed to “Jack Stanley.”
“And now,” he added to the gypsies, “if you folks would like to do a little shoppin’ before you start back to the country, I’d like a few minutes’ talk with Bud and Mr. Camp.”
Stanley hesitated and looked at his mother-in-law, Madame Zecatacas. The latter turned toward Bud. The boy, hardly knowing what to do, paused a moment, and then, holding out his hand, pointed to his “good luck” ring, which he still wore. Stepping to Stanley, Bud took the package of money and pressed it into Madame Zecatacas’ hand.