"I believe," said Mr. Carteret after a pause, "that you, sir, may live to be an honest man."
"I'll look after Dick," blubbered the 'Bishop,' sorely affected. "Dick will pan out all right--in the end."
But Dick's father shuddered.
"It's very chilly," he said, with a nervous cough. "Good-night, Mr. Crisp. Good-night, and God bless you."
XIX
A RAGAMUFFIN OF THE FOOTHILLS
Jeff looked ruefully at the hot dusty road which curled upward and in front of him like a great white snake. At the top of the grade, where some pines stood out against the blue sky, hung a small reek of dust concealing the figure of his late companion. As Jeff gazed, the reek melted away. The young man told himself that he was alone in the brush foothills, with a lame horse, and a body (his own) so bruised and battered that it seemed to belong to somebody else.
"Hello!" said a voice.
Jeff stared into the chaparral. Wild lilac and big sage bushes, flowering lupins and gilias, bordered the road, for spring was abroad in San Lorenzo county. A boy slipped through the lilacs.