"Say, Mr. Hawkins, what's the penalty for smuggling in this state?" Bud inquired. "I just wondered——"
"Ten years," the agent answered briefly. "Delton's due for quite a long stretch. He'll have time to think over his errors."
"Ten years," Bud said musingly. "Ten years in jail! Mr. Hawkins, if we testified that Delton wasn't so bad as he's supposed to be, and that——"
The boy stopped. Hawkins looked at him long and hard. Then he walked over and held out his hand.
"Son," he said simply, "that's the whitest thing I've ever seen a man do. I'll try to fix it up for you. We'll do what we can to lighten his sentence."
"Thanks," Bud said gratefully.
"Well, when do we start?" Mr. Merkel asked. "If you men are hungry, we'd better get going. Did I understand you to say we'd have a load going back, Bud?"
"And then some! Now let's see how we can arrange this. Billee Dobb goes back in the buckboard. And so do the others who are badly hurt. How many do you think can ride, Kid? You know we've got their horses at the back, and some can come along on them."
"Figure Delton and two of those other guys should go in the wagon. The rest can fork the broncs. They're able. Well, let's get those fellers that are going along with this wild man in the wagon. Think you can take it easy a short spell?" Yellin' Kid asked the grinning driver.
"Sure! Like an am-bu-lance. They'll never know they're ridin'."