"Well, we sprung him," Tom announced.
"All we done was sign on the dotted line," Jerry explained. "But, say, if that boy hops out of town he'll cost us a lot of money."
"How's he going to hop out?" Tom demanded. "That's the hell of this country—there's no getting away."
Jerry snorted derisively. "No gettin' away? What are you talkin' about?
Ain't the Boundary within ninety miles? 'Ain't plenty of people made
get-aways? All they need is a dog-team and a few hours' start of the
Police."
"Everyt'ing's all fix'," 'Poleon told his sister. "I had talk wit'
Pierce. He ain't comin' back here no more."
"Not coming back?" the girl exclaimed.
Doret met her startled gaze. "Not in dis kin' of place. He's cut 'em out for good. I mak' him promise."
"A touch of jail ain't a bad thing for a harum-scarum kid," Tom volunteered, as he finished giving his supper order. "It's a cold compress—takes down the fever—"
"Nothing of the sort," Jerry asserted. "Jails is a total waste of time. I don't believe in 'em. You think this boy's tamed, do you? Well, I talked with him, an' all I got to say is this: keep Courteau away from him or there's one Count you'll lose count of. The boy's got pizen in him, an' I don't blame him none. If I was him I'd make that Frog hop. You hear me."
'Poleon met Rouletta's worried glance with a reassuring smile. "I been t'inkin' 'bout dat, too. W'at you say I go pardners wit' him, eh? I got dog-team an' fine claim on hilltop. S'pose I geeve him half-interes' to go wit' me?"