Here were three men, each of whom within five minutes had done that which was not wholly warranted by the apparent facts. He again had cropped up and out those unnatural circumstances so ably dwelt upon by Mr. William Noy. As has been said, the law abhors such things and seeks a remedy. There is always a remedy; and investigation, patient and thorough, will always find it. Billy rather prided himself on being a patient and thorough investigator.
Nevertheless he did not fail to realize that he was in a tight hole. He felt the pinch already. So he smiled at the three men his sunniest smile.
"Looks like a wild night on the canal," he said calmly. "I expect the mules are pinning back their ears. Yeah. Going, Crafty? Well, be good and—oh, say, Crafty, ain't Jerry Fern the stage driver this trip?"
"I don't know," was the short reply.
"But you knew everything else," complained Billy, making a mental note of another unnatural circumstance. "Seems like you'd oughta know this, too."
"Well, I don't," Craft tossed back over his shoulder, as he flung out of the house.
The door slammed. Billy looked at Sam Larder and grinned. "If this is Jerry Fern's trip, and I'm most sure it is, Felix will be out of luck. Jerry is one stage driver who will always give a bandit a battle."
"Oh, I guess Crafty will get the drop on him all right," Sam Larder averred easily,—too easily by half.
"I can see," said Billy with strange placidity, "I can see that I've got to get out of here."
Both Sam and Tip laughed,—Tip heartily, Sam with a false note.