"Not a chance," Jeb assured them. "The next day doesn't come out here till it's daylight. He meant Thursday, all right, but just what he meant is an unknown quantity."
Just then the telephone rang and Jeb got up to answer it. The instrument was in the dining-room and they could readily hear what he was saying.
"I'll bet it's the sheriff," Bob whispered.
"Wouldn't wonder," Jack agreed.
"All right," Jeb was saying. "We'll be ready. How many? Why there'll be six or eight of us. I'll have to leave a few of the boys here to look after things, you know. About ten? All right, good-bye."
"That was Skeets," he told them as he resumed his seat. "He's got a posse together and is going to make another of his spectacular hunts for Hains and his gang. Guess he got tired of being razzed. But it won't mean a thing. He won't find 'em."
"But you said you'd go," Jack said.
"Sure I said I'd go. I always do. It wouldn't do not to back him up, you know. He'll come riding up here in about two hours at the head of about twenty men and boys all armed to the muzzle, so to speak, and he'll tell about how he's sure to find 'em this time and what he'll do with 'em once he gets his hands on 'em. I wish I knew Skeets was honest," he added after a short pause.
"Can we go?" Bob asked.
"Why, sure. There's no danger along with Skeets."