“Dang me, look at the little runt change hosses! If he does that, no wonder they can run all day!” Slivers cried as Jim Allen, without stopping the machinelike gallop of his horses, lightly sprang from Honeyboy to Princess.
The black pulled abreast of the grays.
“Dang yuh, Jim, don’t yuh go tearin’ into town by your lonesome,” Jack stormed.
“Get that elephant of yorn goin’ then,” Jim taunted.
Side by side, they raced on for another mile or two, then Jack felt his black commence to falter, and Princess shot ahead with Honeyboy pounding along behind her.
“No, yuh don’t!” Jack cried with a laugh.
And when Honeyboy came abreast of him, he leaned forward, grasped the gray’s mane, and swung to his back. Jim saw him and grinned joyfully.
“All right, we’ll bust into town like we usta afore yuh was a famous man an’ me a disreputable character,” he cried.
Side by side, they thundered into town. As they raced down the street, Jim Allen spotted the twins coming slowly from the hotel. Miser Jimpson’s house was almost directly opposite the livery stable, and so, when Jack flung himself from Honeyboy and hastily ran up the path to the house, Jim quietly turned into the livery yard and waited for the twins.
Jack Allen threw open the door and entered old Miser Jimpson’s. He found several people there. Dot Reed was sitting at a table with a paper in her hand. W. A. Raine was standing beside her. On the opposite side of the table sat old Miser, while behind him Spur Treadwell towered above One-wing McCann.