“Where’s the Mexicans?” Westy asked.
“In the lock-up!” Mr. Wilde said.
“Hello, Lola!”
“Hello yourself, Westy! You have almost broken your neck for us this time, haven’t you?”
“That’s what he said he’d do!” piped up Rip, “if it would help you people!”
“Aw, forget it!” Westy was embarrassed with all these admirers looking on.
“I know I think you’re a fine boy,” said Mr. Mitchell, “and I want to thank you for exposing an untrustworthy servant.”
“Your courage was splendid,” Mrs. Mitchell added.
“Well, come on, kid.” Billy was attempting to lift Westy as if to carry him, but the scout frustrated his attempt and stood on his own feet. “All right”—Billy was not a bit balked—“as long as you can walk. But we must get to bed—it’s getting late!”
And as usual Billy busted up the party.