“I’ll fix you city fellers fer this. I’m a constable. Ye air all arrested!”
His dress was haphazard. Over his coarse nightshirt he had drawn his trousers, and he was barefooted. But he had not forgotten his star of office, and he carried a locust club as well as the lantern. He fixed himself in the road directly in front of the Fire Bird and demanded fifty dollars.
“I could buy cows like that skinny old thing for fifty dollars a dozen,” grumbled Ned.
“You’ll pay me fifty for this here caow, or th’ whole on ye will march ter jail at Hacktown.”
“Your cow is perfectly good,” suggested Tavia, “all except one horn. And that horn serves no good purpose on a domestic animal. Most farmers dehorn their cattle anyway. I think this man owes us about fifty cents.”
Nat began to chuckle at that, and the farmer was not at all pleased.
“Ye gotter fork over fifty dollars, or go to Hacktown an’ see the Jestice of the Peace.”
“But we’re in a hurry,” said Ned.
“That’s what they all say,” chuckled the farmer.
“You had no business to allow your cattle to run loose in the road,” cried Ned.