“Do I chaw terbaccy?” asked Mosely, ironically, clearly insulted at the suggestion that he would travel without a gun.
“Then keep a sharp lookout, and listen to everything you hear, especially the whereabouts of some letters. If you can spot their lay, crawl out and get word to me at once. Now, under you go before they come out.”
I heard two men drop into the gravel close alongside of where I lay, and then crawl under the truck of 218. They weren’t a moment too soon, for the next instant I heard two or three people jump on to the platform, and Albert Cullen’s voice drawl, “Aw, by Jove, what’s the row?” Camp not enlightening them, Lord Ralles suggested that they get on the car to find out, and the three did so. A moment later the sheriff came to the door and told Camp that I was not to be found.
“I told yer this was the last place to look for the cuss, Mr. Camp,” he said. “We’ve just discomforted the lady for nothin’.”
“Then we must search elsewhere,” spoke up Camp. “Come on, boys.”
The sheriff turned and made another elaborate apology for having had to trouble the lady.
I heard Madge tell him that he hadn’t troubled her at all, and then, as the cowboys and Camp walked off, she added, “And, Mr. Gunton, I want to thank you for reproving Mr. Camp’s dreadful swearing.”
“Thank yer, miss,” said the sheriff. “We fellers are a little rough at times, but —— me if we don’t know what’s due to a lady.”
“Papa,” said Madge, as soon as he was out of hearing, “the sheriff is the most beautiful swearer I ever heard.”
For a while there was silence round the station; I suppose the party in 218 were comparing notes, while the two cowboys and I had the best reasons for being quiet. Presently, however, the men came out of the car and jumped down on the platform. Madge evidently followed them to the door, for she called, “Please let me know the moment something happens or you learn anything.”