"Take me to my father's," said Marshall with an effort, and his head fell over on Custer's small shoulder.
He did not speak again until Bill came to a stand before Judge Langham's gate.
"Are we there?" he asked of the boy.
"Yes—"
"Don't you think we'd better get help?" said Shrimplin.
And Marshall seeming to acquiesce in this, the little lamplighter entered the yard and going to the front door rang the bell. A minute passed, and growing impatient he rang again. There succeeded another interval of waiting in which Shrimplin cocked his head on one side to catch the sound of possible footsteps in the hall.
"He says try the knob," called Custer from the cart.
Doing this, Shrimplin felt the door yield, it was not locked; at the same instant he made this discovery, however, he heard a footfall in the street and so, hurried back to the gate. The new-comer halted when he was abreast of wild Bill, and stared first at the cart and then at Shrimplin.
"Is anything the matter?" he asked.
It was Watt Harbison.