CHAPTER XX
THE PLOTTERS CAUGHT
Professor Clatter swung wide the door, and the figure of the rain-maker toppled in, rather than walked.
“Quick! Shut it and lock it!” he cried, and he assisted in the operation. Then he passed beyond the small room in the rear of the wagon—a room that served as dining hall, living apartment, sitting room and parlor, and in a few seconds Mr. Somnus could be heard crawling into one of the bunks.
“If they come for me—you haven’t seen me, of course,” came his voice in muffled tones, indicating that his head was under the bed clothes.
“Of course not, my dear Tithy,” replied the professor. “And, in fact, so quick was your passage through, like a half back making a touchdown, to use a phrase doubtless familiar to my friend Bill Smith—to use that phrase, I have scarcely seen you. But what is the matter? Why this haste? There doesn’t seem to be any one following you—at least not at your heels.”
“Are you sure?” asked the muffled voice.
“Sure, yes, Tithy,” replied the medicine man, after a moment of listening. “No one is coming. But what in the world is the matter?”