“Why, you see,” the mountaineer replied, “I 'lowed you might be able to trump up some business excuse for gittin' Carson out o' town next Saturday.”
“Well, I think I can,” Garner cried, his eyes brightening. “The truth is, I was to go myself over to see old man Purdy, the other side of Springtown> to take his deposition in an important matter, but I can pretend to be tied here and foist it onto Carson.”
“Good; that's the stuff!” Pole said, with a smile of satisfaction. “But for the love of mercy don't let Dwight dream what's in the wind or he'd die rather than budge an inch.”
So it was that Carson the following Friday afternoon made his preparations for a ride on horseback through the country, his plan being to spend the night at the little hotel at Springtown and ride on to Purdy's farm the next morning after breakfast, and return to Darley Saturday evening shortly after dark. His horse stood at the hitching-rack in front of the office, and, ready for his journey, he was going out when Garner called him back.
“Are you armed, my boy?” Garner questioned.
“Not now, old man,” Dwight said. “I've carried that two pounds of cold metal on my hip till I got tired of it and left it in my room. If I can't live in a community without being a walking arsenal I'll leave the country.”
“You'd better make an exception of to-day, anyhow,” Garner said, reaching down into the drawer of his desk. “Here, take my gun.”
“Well, I might accidentally need it,” Dwight said, thoughtfully, as he took the weapon and put it into his pocket.
As he was unfastening his horse, Dr. Stone crossed the street from the opposite sidewalk and approached him.
“Where are you off to this time?” the old man asked.