“Good night!” ejaculated Hervey. “You know what bandits are, don’t you?”
“You mean to be a bandit?”
“Jiminetty, they’re not so bad. Look at Robin Hood; don’t they write poems and operas about him and everything? You’re supposed to know all about music, gee williger!”
This deft reasoning which seemed in a way to place music lovers in the category with outlaws did reach the young fellow’s limited sense of humor and he smiled. “Well, you’re certainly a queer youngster,” said he.
Pity the boy of twenty who calls another boy a youngster!
“How much do I have to have to go to Montana?” Hervey demanded.
“Well, you have to have considerable.”
“A hundred bucks?”
“At least.”
“That’s me, all right,” said Hervey.