“Is he going to be able to finish the job?” asked Mr. Elder, turning to Bud again.
“Perhaps. If he works all night.”
“All night?” exclaimed Superintendent Perry. “Them mechanics’ll not stick all night. They’re gettin’ ready to quit now.”
Mr. Elder sighed.
“Well, let him go ahead until the eight o’clock train gets here. If the expert ain’t on it, I guess we’ll call it off. We made a big mistake not hirin’ that Roman Hippodrome and Wild West Congress, but it’s too late now.”
Bud rode to town with Mr. Elder, after watching his horse for an hour, and went sorrowfully home. But he was by no means as despondent as the Fair Association President. His brain had been working all afternoon. When the eight o’clock train came in without the eagerly longed for Mr. Dare, Bud was at Mr. Elder’s elbow. The president was boiling mad.
“I see he didn’t come yit,” ventured the all-observing ’bus driver, Doug’ Jackson. “Ef he gits here on the one o’clock, I reckon I’d better call you up and let ye know?”
This willingness to oblige was leading up to another appeal for a pass, but Doug’ got a cold reception.