“Oh,––it was! Darned good joke for me––and you too!”
“Ya!––you see I find it one day on floor here. You drop it some time. I ain’t much of a swell looker for girls. All girls like face like yours. I get Vancouver man make me twelve pictures all same as this one. I send them just for little joke to girls I write to some time.”
Jim clutched at his own hair despairingly, as Phil furiously worked the bellows in his mirth.
“Great jumping Cæsar! Twelve! Are you going to start a harem?”
“Ach, no! Just have a little fun,––that’s all. You don’t go and been for to get mad at that.”
“Great fun! Great joke!” commented Jim, “but you’ve put your foot in it this time, old cock. One of these women is in town, looking for your scalp. She is asking everybody in Vernock where Sol Hanson hangs out.”
Sol’s big face grew a shade paler and his jaw dropped. He became excited.
“You––you didn’t been for to tell her,––Jim?”
“Sure I did! Why not? You’re going to marry her,––aren’t you? She’s telling everybody that.”
Sol, who had been standing with his big hands spread on his leather apron and his mouth agape, now showed signs of anxiety.