"That's all right," roared Anderson Crow; "purduce him at once!"
"Is this the fellow?" and Crosby dragged the Reverend "Jimmy" into view.
There was a moment's inspection of the cadaverous face, and then the
sleuths shook their heads.
"Not on your life!" said Mr. Crow. "But he's in there--Ike Smalley seen
him an' his paramount go up the steps from the landin'! 'Twon't do no
good to hide him, young feller; he's--"
"Well, let me tell you something. You are too late--they're married!"
cried Crosby triumphantly.
"I don't give a cuss if they're married and have sixteen children!"
shouted the exasperated Crow, his badge fairly dancing. "He's got to
surrender!"
"Oh, he does, eh?"
"Yes, sir-ee-o-bob; he's got to give up, dead or alive! Trot him out
lively, now!"
"I don't mind telling you that Mr. Barnes is here; but I'd like to know
why you're hunting him down like a wild beast, shooting at him and
Miss--I mean Mrs. Barnes. It's an outrage!"
"Oh, we ain't the on'y people that can kill and slaughter! She's just
as bad as he is, for that matter--an' so are you and that other
lantern-jawed outlaw in there." The Reverend "Jimmy" gasped and turned a
fiery red.
"Did he call me a--say!" and he pushed Crosby aside. "I'd have you to
understand that I'm a minister of the gospel--I am the Reverend James
Bracken, of--"
A roar of laughter greeted his attempt to explain; and there were a few
remarks so uncomplimentary that the man of cloth sank back in sheer
hopelessness.
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