"It may be lower than Jacobs and Wilter, but that don't make it
right."

"Well, there were the Two Sevens"--he meant the Seventy-Seven, but
that was a mere detail--"I didn't get to see the owner, you know. I
have written East, however, and should hear from him in a few days."

"Yuh ain't likely to do business with _that_ layout, because I don't
believe they'd sell at any price. Old Robinson is the washout yuh want
to ride around at present; I ain't worrying about the rest, right now.
He's a smooth old devil, and he'll do yuh sure."

To this Mr. Dill made no reply whatever. He fumbled the fastenings on
his coon-skin coat, tried to pull his cap lower and looked altogether
unhappy. And Charming Billy, not at ail sure that his advice would be
taken or his warning heeded, stuck the spurs into his horse and set a
faster pace reflecting gloomily upon the trials of being confidential
adviser to one who, in a perfectly mild and good-mannered fashion,
goes right along doing pretty much as he pleases.

It made him think, somehow, of Miss Bridger and the way she had forced
him to take his gun with him when he had meant to leave it. She was
like Dill in that respect: nice and good-natured and smiling--only
Dill smiled but seldom--and yet always managing to make you give up
your own wishes. He wished vaguely that the wanderings of Dill would
bring them back to the Double-Crank country, instead of leading them
always farther afield. He did not, however, admit openly to himself
that he wanted to see Miss Bridger again; yet he did permit himself
to wonder if she ever played coon-can with any one else, or if she had