By this time, Renmark would have pulled his soft felt hat over his eyes, and, muttering words that would have echoed strangely in the silent halls of the university building, would plunge into the forest. Yates generally looked after his retreating figure without anger, but with mild wonder.
“Well, of all cantankerous cranks he is the worst,” he would say with a sigh. “It is sad to see the temple of friendship tumble down about one’s ears in this way.” At their last talk of this kind Yates resolved not to discuss the problem again with the professor, unless a crisis came. The crisis came in the form of Stoliker, who dropped in on Yates as the latter lay in the hammock, smoking and enjoying a thrilling romance. The camp was strewn with these engrossing, paper-covered works, and Yates had read many of them, hoping to came across a case similar to his own, but up to the time of Stoliker’s visit he had not succeeded.
“Hello, Stoliker! how’s things? Got the cuffs in your pocket? Want to have another tour across country with me?”
“No. But I came to warn you. There will be a warrant out to-morrow or next day, and, if I were you, I would get over to the other side; though you need never say I told you. Of course, if they give the warrant to me, I shall have to arrest you; and although nothing may be done to you, still, the country is in a state of excitement, and you will at least be put to some inconvenience.”
“Stoliker,” cried Yates, springing out of the hammock, “you are a white man! You’re a good fellow, Stoliker, and I’m ever so much obliged. If you ever come to New York, you call on me at the Argus office,—anybody will show you where it is,—and I’ll give you the liveliest time you ever had in your life. It won’t cost you a cent, either.”
“That’s all right,” said the constable. “Now, if I were you, I would light out to-morrow at the latest.”
“I will,” said Yates.
Stoliker disappeared quietly among the trees, and Yates, after a moment’s thought, began energetically to pack up his belongings. It was dark before he had finished, and Renmark returned.
“Stilly,” cried the reporter cheerily, “there’s a warrant out for my arrest. I shall have to go to-morrow at the latest!”
“What! to jail?” cried his horrified friend, his conscience now troubling him, as the parting came, for his lack of kindness to an old comrade.