"It must be bullet-proof," a voice insisted.
"The news is they've shot one of the riders, too. Leastways, blood was found on the pike, an' also on a hat one of the raiders dropped."
"Any of you wearin' new hats this mornin'?" asked Billy with an affected show of inspecting the head-gear of the crowd.
"I noticed Mose limpin' as he come up," a voice declared.
"Mose has been drawin' a pension for that same limp for a good many years past, so I don't think the guards can be charged with that," affirmed the storekeeper.
"Well, folks seem bent on havin' free roads," remarked the owner of the limp, as he sighted a knot-hole in a box near by, and, with the aim of a practiced chewer, adroitly sent a squirt of tobacco juice through it.
"Yes, an' I'm mightily afraid folks'll have the worst of the bargain when they do get free roads," answered Billy, with a dubious shake of his head. "We won't have no such good roads as we've got now."
"Free roads'll make dead agin you, Billy," insisted Mose. "I'm not blamin' you for not favorin' 'em, for when folks can go to town, an' it not costin' 'em a cent, of course they're goin' so you'll lose many a good nickle that now drops in your till."
"How did the sheriff get wind of the raid?" asked Billy, changing an unpleasant subject.
"There must be a traitor."