“That idea is as good as gold,” declared Lance, admiringly. “What the little lady says goes, Bill. You agreed, Jim?”
“And me, too,” said Molly Colt, when her husband nodded.
“Go to it,” squealed Whistler in his funny voice.
Tavia nudged Dorothy, and whispered: “You’re crazy! you’ll get us shot.”
“Not a bit,” said Lance, quickly, hearing her. “Our ponies are as fresh as can be now, while Peleg’s is clean tuckered out. He’s traveled already three times as fur as we have—and he ain’t been savin’ horseflesh, nuther, the state of mind he’s in. Believe me!”
“But the sheriff?” asked Tavia. “Won’t he arrest us?”
“If he wants my vote nex’ year,” shrilled Whistler, “he won’t interfere. He’s only along to see fair play, I reckon.”
“Come on, then,” cried Lance.
“I’ll keep Peleg at the door. Colt, you an’ Molly slip inter the cellar,” commanded the Justice of the Peace. “Peleg will hear Lance and these young ladies after they git started, and I’ll sick him ontuh yuh. He wouldn’t ketch yuh in a week o’ Sundays—an’ I never seed that week come around yit.”
The girls from the East had only time to kiss Molly Colt good-bye and wish her happiness, when Lance hurried them out of the back door of the slab house. They were both keyed up with excitement, but Lance did not realize how troubled they were as he lifted them onto their respective ponies, after cinching the saddles again.