“We would have made more if we had had that old fire-trap of a place insured,” answered Jim, Scotslike.
“That’s what that Redmans gang have been up to;––not cattle this time.”
“Looks like it.”
“Well,––the artful Mr. Brenchfield, if he couldn’t get me one way, got me another,” remarked Phil.
“What do you mean?” asked Jim, as they cantered along.
“He didn’t succeed in buying back his confession, but 325 he took mighty good care nobody else would get it. It is burned up now all right.”
“Is it?” replied Jim; “not if Jimmy Langford knows it!”
“What! Do you mean to say you have it? that you have been carrying that thing with you all this time?”
“Sure! I never change without changing it, too. It is in my belt here. So we still have one on Mayor Brenchfield if he cuts up nasty. My, but he will be chuckling this morning over his fine stroke of business. I would dearly love to show it to him, but I daresay I better hadn’t.”
“You’re right!” said Phil, “you just better hadn’t,––meantime.