Old Colonel Josiah Whympers was bobbing and bustling around on his crutch, and seemingly bossing the "whole shooting-match," as Frank laughingly said to himself.
Of course he saw now what Andy had been doing. For some time the other had threatened to clear the shop of all the accumulated rubbish of the winter; and the notion must have seized him just after Frank left for town.
"Hello! back again, are you, Frank?" laughed his cousin, as the rider dropped off his wheel close to the bonfire. "Cleaning house, you see. Threatened to do this a long time back; and as we have to sleep in the shop now, thought I might as well get at it. But what's that you've brought along, Frank? My goodness, your gun! Now, what sort of game do you expect to get with that thing?"
"Don't know," returned Frank, grimly. "Might be Jules Garrone for all
I can say!"
At that Andy dropped the long stick with which he had been pushing the trash into the heart of the blaze, and stared at the other as though stunned.
"Didn't I know you had something on your mind though?" he muttered.
"See here, Frank, ain't I in on this thing too? What d'ye know about
Jules Garrone? Ain't he fixed tight in the stone jug? I'm not from
Missouri, but all the same I want to know!"
"So say we all of us," remarked Larry, who had come up while they were indulging in these few remarks, and was able to give a good guess as to the nature of what had been said.
"Please confide in us, Frank; we'll keep mum, sure we will!" pleaded
Elephant.
Stuttering Nat only wagged his head, and moved his jaws; but this pantomime stood for volumes with those who knew his infirmity.
"It turns out that our old friend Jules gave them leg bail a week ago, along with a couple of other convicts. But though they recaptured the two fellows, crafty Jules is still at large!" Frank said, quietly.