“I see, I see,” said Trawley, in vague approval. “Well, that's out of the way, an' we can attend to the other matter. It's a serious thing, Jim Hoag. The sheriff over in Canton may tell us to mind our own rat-killin', and then we would be in a box.”
“We've got to bring all our force to bear an' pull 'im round,” Hoag said. “I'm goin' to see a few of our main men here in town, an' sorter map out a plan. If we go at it right, we'll pull it through. I'll meet you all at the Cove to-night.”
CHAPTER XII
IT was late in the afternoon when Hoag rode up to his house and delivered his horse to Cato, with instructions to feed and water the animal and rub him down carefully, as he had to “use him again after supper.”
In the hall he met his wife. She had a tired, anxious look on her face, which seemed flushed by the heat of the cooking-stove, over which she had been working.
“Have the cows come up?” he asked her.
“Yes.” She glanced at him timidly. “Mother is down attendin' to the milkin' with Dilly. I'm watchin' the meat in the stove.”
“You'd better take it up as soon as it's good done,” he said. “I don't want supper to be late ag'in—not to-night, anyway. I've got to ride out to see a man that's got a lot o' land to sell.”