"Besides," says the preacher, coughing behind his hand, "I am somewhat timid—there are so many robbers that I yearn for yo' company for protection."
Jim yelled back to his men in Spanish, "Boys, just watch this stranger—he's no good. Keep your guns handy, and if he tries to act crooked, shoot prompt!"
"Thank you, seh!" says the preacher.
"And now, your business, quick!"
"It appears," the preacher groaned, "that some wicked men have been behaving deceitfully in the purchase of a flock of cows from this young gentleman."
"Eh?"
"Yes, they paid for his flock with a draft made in favour of Lord Balshannon, on the National Bank at Grave City. What a dreadful name for a city!—suggestive of——"
"Rats! Go on, man!"
"This draft on the bank from Jabez Y. Stone, who bought yo' cattle, seh, you forwarded from Lordsburgh yesterday. It will be presented to-day by Lord Balshannon at the bank in Grave City."
"How do you know?"