* * * * *
Bud Shoop wasted no time in Stacey. He puffed into the hotel, indecision behind him and a definite object in view.
"No use talkin'," he said to Mrs. Adams. "We got to go and take care of
Jim. I couldn't get word to Lorry. No tellin' where to locate him just
now. Mebby it's just as well. They's a train west along about midnight.
Now, you get somebody to stay here till we get back—"
"But, Mr. Shoop! I can't leave like this. I haven't a thing ready. Anita can't manage alone."
"Well, if that's all, I admire to say that I'll set right down and run this here hotel myself till you get back. But it ain't right, your travelin' down there alone. We used to be right good friends, Annie. Do you reckon I'd tell you to go see Jim if it wa'n't right? If he ever needed you, it's right now. If he's goin' to get well, your bein' there'll help him a pow'ful sight. And if he ain't, you ought to be there, anyhow."
"I know it, Bud. I wish Lorry was here."
"I don't. I'm mighty glad he's out there where he is. What do you think he'd do if he knowed Jim was shot up?"
"He would go to his father—"
"Uh-uh?"
"And—"