“I ain’t no special officer of anything,” I answers; “but the’s people lookin’ for you, and you ought to have sense enough to keep quiet.”
“And I’m lookin’ for people,” sez he, grinnin’ like a boy; “and the best way to find ’em is by makin’ a noise. The’ ain’t any rules again’ walkin’ on the grass up here, is there?”
“Olaf the Swede is after you on account o’ the gal,” I blunted; “and he ain’t no bluffer. He intends to do away with you for good and all; and you’d better be makin’ your plans.”
“Goin’ to do away with me for good an’ all,” he repeats, smilin’. “Well, Olaf the Swede is a gross materialist. The worst he can do will be to tear off my wrapper and leave me free to find out a lot of things I’m deeply interested in. Why, Happy, you’re all worked up! You’ve lost your philosophy, you’ve become a frettish old woman. What you need is a right good scare to straighten you up again. This Olaf the Swede is part of Ty Jones’s outfit, isn’t he?”
“He is,” I replied, shakin’ my head in warnin’, “and the whole gang’ll back him up in this.”
“Good!” sez the Friar, smackin’ his hand. “I’ve wanted an openin’ wedge into that outfit ever since I came out here. Of a truth, the Lord doth move in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform.”
“Well, he certainly will have to perform some mysterious wonders to get you out of this scrape,” I said. I was put out at the way he took it.
“Don’t be irreverent, Happy,” sez he, the joy-lights dancin’ in his eyes. “We are all merely instruments, and why should an instrument take it upon itself to question the way it is used. Where is this Olaf?”
“I met him yesterday; and for all I know, he’s been followin’ me.”
“Fine, fine!” sez the Friar. “Now, you go on back to the Diamond Dot, and I’ll go back over your trail and save Olaf as much bother as possible.”