"We'll come out of the scrape all right, if one of the young scoundrels can be produced, so you an' Sam may as well look cheerful."
"Is there anything new at Farley's?" Fred asked.
"Wright is goin' around like a bear with a sore head; but I didn't hear anything about his servin' the warrant on you. I reckon neither him nor that blessed cashier fancy havin' the trial come off so soon."
"How is Bill?"
"Chipper as a chicken. Your mother has sent some clean clothes, an' we'd better mosey over to the hotel to make ourselves comfortable like."
Before any objection could be offered to this plan Mr. Hunter entered; but he did not delay the partners very long. After asking a few questions and jotting down the answers, he dismissed them with the caution to be at the office by eleven o'clock next morning.
During the evening Joe tried very hard to appear jolly and perfectly at ease; but the boys could not simulate cheerfulness, and the hours passed wearily despite their companion's efforts.
At an early hour Fred and Sam were on the road down which Skip had driven, waiting for his return; but when the appointed time for them to go to Mr. Hunter's office arrived, they had watched in vain.
Now the suspense was positively painful. The lawyer exhibited the utmost impatience, because the constable did not come, while his clients were on the verge of despair.
At half-past eleven when the train from Farley's arrived, the boys saw Mr. Wright and the cashier pass on their way to the court-room, and a few moments later Mr. Hunter said: