Bloom glanced at him, then halted to stare.

“Haw! Haw!” he guffawed, striding on again. “Hat, did you see that? Reckon it got away from a circus.”

Whereupon Hatfield turned to look at Merry. It was not a gaze calculated to flatter or please the recipient. but though Merry evidently saw he was the object of ridicule, he gave no sign. The moment brought Cal both resentment and a thrilling anticipation. Then Bloom and Hatfield, after speaking to the natives on the bench, disappeared in the store.

Cal heard the droning hum of the stage. So did the natives hear it. They woke up and stirred to animation.

“Wal, I’ll be dog-goned it thar ain’t the stage comin’,” said one.

“Betcha it ain’t Jake drivin’,” added another.

“Reckon if it is Jake he’s been lookin’ at licker,” snickered a third.

Cal found a grim consolation in the fact that whatever was to be his ordeal, it would soon be under way. He saw Wess and the boys leisurely approaching. Then he caught Tuck Merry’s eye and beckoned to him. When the lanky fellow slid off the porch to tower erect, Cal could not repress another start of amaze and mirth. If a man could somehow resemble a giraffe, Merry did.

“Did you notice the two fellows who just went in the store?” queried Cal.

“I’ll say so,” replied Merry.

“Ahuh! Well, the fat one was Bloom, head of the Bar XX outfit, an’ no friend of the Thurmans. The other was Hatfield, one of his riders. There’s bad blood between him an’ me. I’ll tell you why some day. Of all the—But never mind.—Now look down the road. See those four boys comin’? Well, they belong to the Thurman outfit. Wess, the tallest, is my cousin. They’re just the finest fellows. But they’re hell on tricks an’ fights. They’ve put up some job on me today. Now you just hang around an’ watch, until I call you.”

“I get you, Steve,” returned Merry, with a smile, and then lounged away to his seat on the porch.

Cal remained sitting in the Ford. Wess and his comrades came leisurely on, and lined up on the porch, as calm as deacons. Natives of Ryson appeared on the road, approaching the store and post office. Then the big auto-stage turned into the main road and came on with a roar, leaving a cloud of dust behind. It appeared to be loaded down with bags and boxes, piled on top and tied on the sides. The driver came on with unusual speed, and halted with a bang before the porch steps. When he stepped quickly out, Cal recognized Jake’s face and figure, but not his movements. Remarkable and unnatural energy characterized Jake at the moment.

“Hyar we are,” he called, cheerily, as he opened a side door. Then he proceeded to lift out numerous pieces of hand baggage, grips and bags of a quality and style seldom seen at Ryson.