"We been out here workin' in this brilin' sun sense nine o'clock this mornin'.

Luck ain't robbed no bank, ner he ain't the kind that DOES rob banks, and I'm here to see you swaller them words 'fore I haul ye off'n that horse and plumb wear ye out! Yuh wanta think twicet 'fore ye come ridin' up where I kin hear yuh call Luck Lindsay a thief, now I'm tellin' ye! If a bank was robbed, ye better be gittin' out after them that done it, and git outa the way uh that camery sos't we can git t' work! Git!" The sheriff did not "git" exactly, but he did look considerably embarrassed.

His eyes went to Luck apologetically.
"Cashier come to and said you'd called him up on the phone about eleven, claimin' you wanted to make a movin' pitcher of the bank being robbed," he explained--though he was careful not to lower his gun.

"He swore it was your men that done the work and took the gold you told him to pile out on the--" "_I_ told him ?" Luck's voice had the sharpened quality that caused laggard actors to jump.

"Be a little more exact in the words you use." "Well-l--somebody on the phone 't he THOUGHT was you," the sheriff amended obediently.