Trading Jeff and his Dog Part 9

"Don't make the judge mad!" Ike chortled. "What if he gets real upset?"

"Can't you make him shut up?" the constable pleaded.

"I'll try."

The two went back to the desk. A match flared there, and an oil lamp cast its yellow glow into the corridor; apparently night was approaching. The constable left and Jeff pocketed the mouth organ. Five minutes later he brought it out again and once more Pal wrecked the silence. The door burst open, slammed shut, and Pop and the constable stood before Jeff's cell.

Joe Parker spoke, "How'd you like to get out, peddler?"

"I don't know," Jeff said smoothly. "I like it here."

"Now look, why can't you be reasonable? We haven't got much on you and we're not mad at you. Ever'body's going to be plumb out of their minds if that dog howls down here for a whole week!"

"What's your proposition?" Jeff asked serenely.

"We'll leave you out, give you and that howling wolf pack ten minutes to get out of town, and start looking for you."

Jeff hesitated, scenting a trap and guessing that something besides Pal's howling was involved. Probably Pop had not been reticent about the new prisoner's willingness to consult attorneys.... Jeff said finally, "And if you catch me, you'll have me for breaking jail, too?"

The constable retorted grimly, "We don't aim to hunt _that_ hard."

For a moment Jeff pondered, as though considering everything seriously.

His face was solemn when he looked up.

"Nope," he said. "It's not enough."

Ike looked pained. "What do you want for getting out of jail?"

"Pop owes me thirty-nine cents for a hack saw."

"I'll give the hack saw back," Pop offered quickly.

"I don't want it. I want thirty-nine cents."

"Oh, for pete's sake!"

Pop took a purse from his pocket, counted out thirty-nine cents, and pa.s.sed it through the bars. Jeff pocketed the money.

"What's the next town?"

"Stay right in the valley. Seven miles down, you'll come to Delview. You can't miss, and heaven help Delview if they pick you up!"

"Any other place?"

"North through the mountains there's Smithville. Better not try it, there's no direct road and those mountains are plenty rugged."

"Good town, though," Ike called. "That constable in Smithville, he minds his own business most of the time. So does most ever'body else. It pays, in Smithville."

"Wild place, huh?"

"Not wild," Ike declared. "Just sensible."

"I'll go to Delview," Jeff decided.

"That's worse'n Cressman," Ike snorted. "They jail you there for lookin'

cross-eyed."

"You got to go now," Joe pointed out. "You took Pop's money."

"Open the cell."

"'Bye, Jeff," Ike called. "Me'n Bucky may be seeing you."

"Take care of yourselves."

Outside, instead of going to the main street, Jeff slipped behind the court house. Two more moving shadows in a place of shadows, he and Pal flitted past a cl.u.s.ter of lilacs and darted to a patch of trees. They threaded their way through the town, always alert and careful.

Again on the outskirts of Cressman, Jeff heaved a sigh of relief and walked swiftly down the road. Once more Pal had saved the day; apparently Pop and the constable had wanted only, and wholeheartedly, to be rid of them. Jeff felt a little saddened. The s.h.i.+ning name of Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., had become a little tarnished in Cressman. The concern had spent money and earned little enough.

Jeff was startled by the gruff command, "Wait thar!"

He halted. A man stepped out of the shadows, looked closely at him, pointed a sawed-off shotgun at the ground and said, "Go ahead."

Jeff thought of Ike and Bucky. Probably this man was one of the pickets waiting for them.

He recovered his cheer. There were always fresh customers down the road, but they would not be where Jeff had told Joe Parker he intended to seek them. It would be no difficult matter to send a message to Delview, and to ask the police there to be alert for a peddler accompanied by a huge dog.

At the first break in the mountains, Jeff left the road and started for the opportunities that must surely await him in Smithville.

4. THE CABIN

The rising sun turned the tops of the mountains to gold, and like slow-flowing water, suns.h.i.+ne crept gradually down the slopes. In a grove of pines, a chickaree came out of the warm nest where he had spent the night. Three inches from his nest, the chickaree paused on an outjutting stub.

A hawk winged through the pines regularly, and though it had always missed by a comfortable margin, it had struck three times at the chickaree. The pines were part of a marten's beat, and the marten had chased the chickaree several times. In addition, on their way to one place or another, various other predators wandered through the pines and few of them were averse to eating chickaree.

The chickaree held perfectly still, bright eyes glowing and small ears straining. Neither the hawk nor the marten were present, and the chickaree was puzzled because he could see nothing else. That should not be. Three big bucks were spending the season on this slope and every night they bedded in the pines. This morning there was no sign of them.

Though he could neither see nor hear anything, the chickaree knew that something was present, if only because the deer were not. After five minutes, having a.s.sured himself that there was no immediate threat, the chickaree set out to find whatever he had sensed.

He scampered up the pine, leaped effortlessly into another, and took a different stand. Again he examined the grove. A smell of wood smoke tickled his nostrils and the chickaree knew that a man had come to the pines. That much discovered, he went into action.

He leaped to another pine, raced swiftly up it, and made a leap so long that the twigs upon which he landed bent precariously. A master of aerial travel, the chickaree paid no heed.

Three minutes later he found the man sleeping under a big pine. There was a huge dog beside him and a bed of glowing coals so arranged that the heat they cast enveloped both man and dog. The chickaree paused, anger in his eyes. He had squatters' rights in these pines and he lacked the remotest intention of sharing them with any man. Biting off a pine cone, the chickaree dropped it squarely on the man's face.