Bill Cassidy rode slowly into Sharpsville and dismounted in front of
Carter's Emporium, nodding carelessly to the loungers hugging the shade
of the store. "Howd'y," he said. "Seen anything of Jimmy Price--a kid,
but about my height, with brown hair and a devilish disposition?"
Carter stretched and yawned, a signal for a salvo of yawns. "Nope,
thank God. You need n't describe nothin' about that Price cub to none
of us. _We_ know him. He spent three days here about a year ago, an'
th' town 's been sorta restin' up ever since. You don't mean for to
tell us he 's comin' here again!" he exclaimed, sitting up with a jerk.
Bill laughed at the expression. "As long as you yearn for him so
powerful hard, why I gotta tell you he 's on his way, anyhow. I had to
go east for a day's ride an' he headed this way. He 's to meet me here."
Carter turned and looked at the others blankly. Old Dad Johnson
nervously stroked his chin. "Well, then he 'll git here, all right," he
prophesied pessimistically. "He usually gets where he starts for; an' I
'm plumb glad I 'm goin' on to-morrow."
"Ha, ha!" laughed George Bruce. "So 'm I goin' on, by Scott!"
Grunts and envious looks came from the group and Carter squirmed
uneasily. "That's just like you fellers, runnin' away an' leavin' me to
face it. An' it was you fellers what played most of th' tricks on him
last time he was here. Huh! now I gotta pay for 'em," he growled.
Bill glanced over the gloomy circle and laughed heartily. Two faces out
of seven were bright, Dad's particularly so. "Well, he seems to be
quite a favorite around here," he grinned.