"Well, sir," said Mr. Sanders, "I've heard tell of you many a time, an' I'm right down glad to see you."
"You haven't heard much good of me, I reckon," Captain Sanford remarked.
"Yes; not so very long ago I heard a fine old lady say that if they was more Buck Sanfords, the wimmen would be better off."
A faint colour came into the face of the duellist. "Is that so?" he asked with some eagerness.
"It's jest like I tell you, an' the lady was Lucy Lumsden, the grandmother of this chap that we're tryin' to git out'n trouble."
"I wonder if Tomlin Perdue wouldn't let me into the row?" inquired Captain Sanford. "You see, it's this way: If the boy can't break away, it would be well for a serious accident to happen, and in that case, you'll need a man that's perfectly willing to bear the brunt of such an accident."
"We'll see about that," said Mr. Sanders.
"Suppose it's a rainy day, Buck; what then?" asked the Chief.
"And you a grown man!" exclaimed Mr. Sanford, sarcastically. "Did you ever hear of a false alarm? Or were you at a Sunday-school picnic when it was rung in? Oh, I'm going to get a blacksmith and have your head worked on," and with that, Captain Buck Sanford turned on his heel and went out.
"I know Buck was pleased with your plan," the Chief declared. "He nodded at me a time or two when you wasn't looking. If you can work him into the row, it will tickle him mightily. He ain't flighty; he never gets mad; and he always knows just what to do, and when to shoot."