“Perhaps you’re goin’ to put me out,” smiled Mr. Dare.
“I would if I had time,” answered Bud. “But I’m busy. Any way, that ain’t the program. I’m just to tell you to get out.”
Mr. Dare laughed outright.
“Put me out,” he said banteringly.
“Jim,” called out Bud, good naturedly, and resuming his work on the engine, “accommodate the gentleman. He wants to be put out.”
Jim Hoarr, the night watchman, who was curled up in a corner of the shed, slowly arose and hitched up his trousers. Jim was not tall, but his tight undershirt exposed such a mass of rounded muscle and chest that Mr. Dare at once stepped back.
“Wot gent?” asked Jim sleepily, glancing first at Mr. Dare and then at Attorney Stockwell.
“Bud,” exclaimed Attorney Stockwell angrily, “come here.”
“I’m busy,” said Bud, polishing the engine industriously.