"Why can't you explain them then? I'm growing tired of hints, and feel tempted to tell my mysterious well-wishers to go to the devil together, and leave me in peace," I said.
"A little ill-humor is perhaps excusable," was the tranquil answer. "It is wisest not to prophesy until one is sure, you know. Now, I'm open, as I said, to do my best for you; but in that case you have just got to let me set about it independently. Usual or otherwise, it is my way."
"Then I suppose I'll have to let you. Your reputation should be a guarantee," I answered moodily, and Dixon lifted his hat from the table.
"Thanks!" he said dryly. "It is, in fact, the only sensible thing you can do."
CHAPTER XXI
AGAINST TIME
Dixon's prediction proved correct. When I was brought into court a second time there was still no news of Wilkins, and after further testimony of no importance the case was again adjourned. This time, however, bail was allowed, and Boone and Rancher Gordon stood surety for me. The latter was by no means rich, and had, like the rest of us, suffered severe losses of late. Dixon was the first to greet me when I went forth, somewhat moodily, a free man for the time being.
"You don't look either so cheerful or grateful as you ought to be," he said.
"You are wrong in one respect. I am at least sincerely grateful for your efforts."
Dixon, in defiance of traditions, smote me on the shoulder. "Then what's the matter with the cheerfulness?"