“Look a here,” growled the sheriff, “who are yer sayin’ all this to anyway? If yer talkin’ to me, say so right off.”
“All I mean,” hastily said Camp, “is that it’s your duty, in your honorable position, to search this car.”
“I don’t need no instructin’ in my dooty as sheriff,” retorted the official. “But a bigger dooty is what is owin’ to the feminine sex. When a female is in question, a gentleman, Mr. Camp,—yes, sir, a gentleman,—is in dooty bound to be perlite.”
“Politeness be —— ——!” swore Camp.
“Git as angry as yer —— please,” roared the sheriff, wrathfully, “but —— me if any —— —— cuss has a right to use such —— —— talk in the presence of a lady!”
CHAPTER XIV
“LISTENERS NEVER HEAR ANYTHING GOOD”
Before I had ceased chuckling over the sheriff’s indignant declaration of the canons of etiquette, I heard Mr. Cullen’s voice demanding to know what the trouble was, and it was quickly explained to him that I had escaped. He at once gave them permission to search his car, and went in with the sheriff and the cowboys. Apparently Madge went in too, for in a moment I heard Camp say, in a low voice,—
“Two of you fellows get down below the car and crawl in under the truck where you can’t be seen. Evidently that cuss isn’t here, but he’s likely to come by and by. If so, nab him if you can, and if you can’t, fire two shots. Mosely, are you heeled?”