He seated himself on the ground and
pulled off his boot from which he extracted a pulpy mass of greenbacks.
"Can't fool me!" he said cunningly. "Always save 'nuff for my rig!"
He shoved the bills into the liveryman's hands. The latter straightened
them out, counted them, thrust a portion into his pocket, and handed the
rest back to Darrell.
"There you are," said he. He shouted an order into the darkness of the
stable.
An interval ensued. The stableman and Tally waited imperturbably,
without the faintest expression of interest in anything evident on their
immobile countenances. Dicky Darrell rocked back and forth on his heels,
a pleased smile on his face.
After a few moments the stable boy led out a horse hitched to the most
ramshackle and patched-up old side-bar buggy Bob had ever beheld.
Darrell, after several vain attempts, managed to clamber aboard. He
gathered up the reins, and, with exaggerated care, drove into the middle
of the street.
Then suddenly he rose to his feet, uttered an ear-piercing exultant
yell, hurled the reins at the horse's head and began to beat the animal
with his whip.
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