Saxon felt for Billy's hand and squeezed it proudly. The constable grumbled some threat.
“What's that?” Billy demanded sharply. “Ain't you gone yet? Now listen to me, Whiskers. I've put up with all your shenanigan I'm goin' to. Now get out or I'll throw you out. An' if you come monkeyin' around here again you'll get yours. Now get!”
So great was the roar of the storm that they could hear nothing. Billy rolled a cigarette. When he lighted it, they saw the barn was empty. Billy chuckled.
“Say, I was so mad I clean forgot my run-around. It's only just beginnin' to tune up again.”
Saxon made him lie down and receive her soothing ministrations.
“There is no use moving till morning,” she said. “Then, just as soon as it's light, we'll catch a car into San Jose, rent a room, get a hot breakfast, and go to a drug store for the proper stuff for poulticing or whatever treatment's needed.”
“But Benson,” Billy demurred.
“I'll telephone him from town. It will only cost five cents. I saw he had a wire. And you couldn't plow on account of the rain, even if your finger was well. Besides, we'll both be mending together. My heel will be all right by the time it clears up and we can start traveling.”