"I reckon it going to be de wors' shock he ebber get in his life when you rides up to de ole place," remarked Rufe presently.
"I rather expect it will," replied Guy feebly, wiping his eyes. "Come on, Rufe. There's a train back at twelve-thirty. Just time for dinner, and then the sooner we're home again the better."
Guy's first task, when he arrived at Pine Lake, was to call on Anderson the sheriff.
Anderson, who was fat and fifty, went positively purple at sight of the man upon whom he had held an inquest!
Guy told him the whole story, all about the quarrel between himself and Blissett, about Deacon's threats and Rufe's plan. The only thing he did not mention was the fact that Deacon had stolen and sold Blissett's horse.
Anderson listened first in amazement, then with amusement, and finally went off into a fit of laughter.
"That Rufe's a wonder," he said. "I didn't reckon there was a nigger in Florida with that much sense. But, look here, young fellow, you've been taking mighty big liberties with the law. According to law you're dead, and buried, too. What d'ye reckon we're going to do about that?"
"Don't know, I'm sure, Mr. Anderson. That's what I came to you about," replied Guy coolly.
"Reckoned I could fix it for you, eh?" There was a sly twinkle in old Anderson's eyes. "I guess I'll have to try. But, say, don't you go wasting time in here. Ef that thar cousin o' yours hears as you ain't as dead as he hed supposed, chances are he'll be getting his gun."
"All right, sheriff," said Guy. "I'll get along. I am under obligations to you about the business. I'm afraid it's given you a lot of bother."