CHAPTER XVII.
THE WONDERFUL NEWS "I reckon sure my cake is dough now, since you've tumbled to my game, Hugh," the late tramp was saying, presently; "and there's nothing left for me to do but take you into camp, and give you the whole story from beginning to end." "I'd be glad to have you do that, Mr.Corbley," Hugh hastened to tell him.
"Then let's walk back a bit.

I believe we can find a nice convenient log close to the road, where we'll take things easy while I spin my little yarn.

To tell you the truth, Hugh Morgan, I've taken a great liking to you and that chum, Thad.

I've been sizing the pair of you up ever since I first ran across you; and say, it's given me a heap of joy to see how solicitous you both were about my hanging out at Sister Matilda's ranch, and eating her hard-earned bread.
You boys have got the right kind of stuff in you, that's certain.
Why, there were times when I was almost afraid that impulsive chum of yours would be wanting to jump on me, and try by main force to chase me off the ground." "We did make one try that way, as of course you know, sir," ventured Hugh.
"Meaning that article in the _Weekly Courier_ about the terrible marshal from Texas, Hastings by name," laughed the other.

"I've had lots of fun over that racket, son, I give you my word I have.
Of course there's a sheriff down there capable of doing all those stunts your friend on the paper wrote up; but his name chances to be Rawlings and not Hastings.