“There, Thompson, that cop saw your pistols and never said a word to you,” said he.
“What cop?” asked Thompson in surprise.
“Why, that policeman. Your revolvers are not concealed, and so he took no notice of it.”
“Then I am all right,” said the foreman, immensely relieved. “I supposed that he would arrest me for having those weapons about me. Oh, yes, I am all right.”
“Well, boys, here is your boat, and I presume you will go aboard of her,” said Claude, as they arrived upon the levee. “I believe I will take leave of you right here.”
“What are you going to do with that money you have in your pocket?” asked Carl. “You ought to put it in the bank, where it will be safe.”
“I will attend to that the first thing I do. I will bet you that nobody will get it out of me. Good-by.”
Thompson drew a long breath of relief, while Carl held out his hand to his cousin. He did not say that he was sorry to have him go away where he might never see him again, because he wasn’t. He hoped that, Claude having got away from the ranch, things would go on as smoothly as they had done before he came there. But Claude, although he shook his cousin’s hand heartily, was not yet done with him by any means. He had his eye on that wad of money that Thompson carried in his shirt, and he did not intend to see the last of Carl until he had the handling of some of it.
“If you are going away before I have time to show you some of the sights of the city, I don’t know but I might as well bid you good-by now as some other time,” said Claude, drawing his left hand hastily across his eyes. “You have been mighty good to me since I have been out there on the ranch with you——”
“Oh, that is all right,” said Carl, who did not care to listen to any words which he knew Claude did not mean. “We treated you as we would anybody else who came there, and no better. Good-by, and good luck to you.”