“Not on your life!” cried Jim. “Haven’t you got more savvy than that? Do you want the whole of that gang up there in on our top?”
A dog barked in the distance and the bark was taken up ominously by other dogs around the settlement.
“Lower your voices and don’t make any racket, for God’s sake!” pleaded Jim. “Come on, make a try, Brenchfield!”
“What else do you think I’m doing?” growled the Mayor between his teeth. He did make a strong effort then, but was unable to bear his foot on the ground.
“Darn it! It’s no good!” he exclaimed, sitting down disgustedly on a log.
“Well, boys,” returned Jim, in a hopeless tone, “I guess we’ve got to leave him. One of us will have to stay with the Mayor. That will leave six for the job ahead of us. Guess we can manage! Will you stay with him, Blair?”
“Sure thing!” came the ready reply, “but I hate to miss the fun.”
The Mayor’s face could not be seen, but his voice broke in rather too quickly:
“Good heavens!––my own ranch is just up there over the hill. I can creep there on my hands and knees inside of half an hour;––and I won’t have to do that.