“You hit it right, Jake,” said the first man. “And just what we want—hey?”
“I wouldn’t try ter go on in that blamed old scooter—not much! And we won’t have to lug the box.”
“Shut up!”
“Aw, it’s all right. This is luck——”
The sheriff interposed suddenly. “I take it you fellows consider that your meeting with us is providential; don’t you?”
“Huh?” growled the first speaker. “You’re slingin’ fine language, I guess. What we means ter do is ter take the sled an’ the hosses. That’s all. And there won’t be room for youse gents—or the gals.”
“Why, you scoundrel!” exclaimed Mr. Parker. “What do you mean?”
“Cut that out!” commanded the man called Tom, stepping quickly to the county clerk’s side of the sleigh.
Lettie screamed. The man grabbed Mr. Parker by the collar and dragged him out of the sleigh. Mr. Parker shouted aloud in his anger, and tried to grapple with the man, but was struck a hard blow with a short club, or piece of gas pipe, by the other man. For the moment he was knocked almost senseless.
The sheriff was not frightened, however. He dropped the reins and leaped to the ice, where the snow was now almost knee deep.