“Yes, but if you’ll let——”
“I calculate that’s a-plenty,” cut in Hawkins, with a triumphant look at Hiram. “We’ll hop in an’ show ye the way to the jail.”
“I want to explain this,” cried Matt.
“Oh, ye do!” gibed the constable. “I can tell, just by the look of you, you’re a pair of scalawags. You can’t do any explainin’ that’ll help your case any.”
“Take us before a justice,” pleaded Matt.
“The jedge is away, fishin’, an’ he won’t hold court till this arternoon. I’ll haul ye up in front o’ him, soon enough, an’ if he don’t hold ye to a higher court to answer for the larceny of one benzine buggy, I’ll miss my guess. Hiram,” and the constable turned to his comrade, “I’ll git in with ’em, so’st to make sure they don’t run, then you take down the chain, an’ git in, too.”
“You bet I will,” assented Hiram, with great alacrity.
“Is there a telegraph office in town?” asked Matt, while Hiram was removing the chain.
“’Course there is,” replied Hawkins. “We got a railroad, too, and an op’ry house, and everythin’ else that makes a town worth livin’ in.”
“We want to stop at the telegraph office and send a message,” said Matt.