“Actually going to stay here longer?” queried Dick in surprise.
“Bet your life, son. I’ve just bought another dozen pencils—got ’em cheaper yet.”
Of course there was another argument—a long and earnest one. The peculiar smile once more on Cranny’s face warned them of the futility of their efforts; but duty, they considered, required them to plead.
“No, gentlemen, very sorry, I’m sure,” grinned Cranny. “But you see Edmunds has a whole lot o’ articles half finished. I can’t desert him now—I just simply can’t.”
“Mighty good of you, I’m sure, Cranny,” declared Bob, heartily. “And now having used up all my stock of ‘buts’ and ‘ifs’ I’ll quit.”
“Bother the thing,” growled Tom. “I wish to thunder we hadn’t made any promise.”
On this occasion Cranny’s decision did not so disturb his companions’ peace of mind, for now it seemed almost certain that the Constitutionalists had definitely decided to let such a well-defended town alone. Still, Bob Somers could not reconcile himself to the thought of allowing the Tacoma lad to remain there by himself.
“I have a solution to the question, fellows,” he announced.
“Oh, do let it solute at once,” cried Tom.
“I was really the only one to promise Dave to skip back, and the way things have turned out you three chaps are justified in staying.”