So we packed up and came."
"I'm mighty glad you came, anyway," replied Bennington fervently.
"So'm I. We're just in time to help foil the villain. As foilers Jeems
and I are an artistic success. We have studied foiling under the best
masters in the Bowery and Sixth Avenue theatres."
"Where's Bill?" asked Jim suddenly.
"Will be around in the morning. You're to report progress at once.
Didn't dare to come up until after the row. Dreadful anxious though.
Would have come if Jeems and I hadn't forbidden it."
Bennington wondered vaguely who Bill might be, but he was beginning to
feel a little tired from the excitement and his wound, so he said
nothing.
"The next thing is grub," remarked Fay, rising and gathering his pony's
reins. "I'll mosey up to the shack and see about supper. You fellows
can sit around and talk until I get organized."
He turned to move away, leading his horse.
"Hold on a minute, Jim," called Bert. "You might lend me your bronc,
and I'll lope down and set Bill's mind easy. It won't take long."
"Good scheme!" approved Jim heartily. "That's thoughtful of you,
Bertie!"
He dropped the reins where he stood, and the pony, with the usual
well-trained Western docility, hung his head and halted.
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