"I tell you, I hate to do this thing," Pole hesitated, "Seems to me we've pestered Rube about enough. He proved to us that he's the real stuff this afternoon and I'm for leaving him alone."
"But think of the sport, Pole. Think of it! Can you picture him begging for mercy when I point that gun at him and say, 'Hands up!' Can you?"
"I guess almost anyone would beg for mercy in a situation like that," replied Pole, not easily moved.
"Oh, come on, just this once," pleaded Benz.
"… All right, it's not my funeral," yielded Pole, finally. "But you'd better not go too far."
"Bosh! Rube's slow as mud. He'll never tumble to the fact it's not a real robbery and we won't put him wise to the joke until we get back to college."
"All right, as I said before, it's not my funeral," muttered Pole, indifferently. Then to Judd who was standing some few feet off: "I say, Rube, let's you and I be piking it for the college. The rest of the bunch are goin' to hang around a bit and I'm anxious to get back."
"Suits me! So long, fellows—see you later!"
Pole and Judd started off.
"Now, gang!" cried Benz, "Wait here for me. I'll be back with the stuff and we'll take the short cut. Gee, it's dark out, … and no moon!"