“Fine work! I’ll pay them $2 for every half-day they are out, with extra money for meals and night work. But the bosses will get double the money. I’ll pay you a dollar for every man you sign up.”
“Signed up—what fer?” asked the suspicious grocer.
“To contract to hunt these criminals. You see, we’ve got to do the thing business-like, and once they start out they might work a whole day or two, and be entitled to honest pay. But others who never moved may come in at pay-time and claim money for nothing. I’ve got to have the signatures of my men so that I know who I am paying, see?”
The old grocer felt satisfied with the explanation, and said: “I know the constabule pritty well, and he’ll ’tend to the posse if I divide even. He knows the best men to send on a job like this. I’ll be satisfied with half, if I get my picksher in a New York news-paper. I allers wanted to do that afore I die!”
Mrs. Vernon could not refrain from smiling at such a desire and ideal, but the scouts laughed outright. Mr. Gilroy said: “Youth laughs because it does not believe in death.”
“When do ye want ’em to start?” queried the grocer eagerly.
“As soon as you can possibly get them off. Those convicts may escape from the mountainside in another twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll git Lem on the telerphone now, and start him off. He’s our constabule, ye know, and a lively one, tew.”
Soon after this, Lemuel Saunders called to see Mr. Gilroy. “Ef yuh will step over to my office, I’ve got a line o’ men waitin’ to sign up.”
The scouts wanted to watch the rest of this exciting plan, so Mrs. Vernon accompanied them to the constable’s room behind the Post-Office General Store.