sad, solemn faces declared that, considerin' his untimely end, it was
their bounden duty to bury 'im in a respectable way. So they went to
the furniture store close by an' borrowed a coffin an' picked out
pall-bearers. A feller that slept with Bob in the little room cut off
at the end o' his store was in the game, an' he had a key an' unlocked
the door, an' the solemn procession marched in singin' some sad hymn
or other with every man-jack of 'em wipin' his eyes an' snufflin'.
Now, that was all well an' good as far as it went, but thar was a
traitor in the camp. Somebody had let the dead man in on the job, an'
when the gang got to the door of the little room he jumped out o' bed
with a surprised sort o' grunt an' let into firin' blank-cartridges
straight at 'em. Folks say that thar was some o' the tallest runnin'
an' jumpin' an' hidin' under counters an' bustin' show-cases that ever
tuck place out of a circus. After that night Jeff said the whole town
was meetin' the gang an' tellin' 'em that thar must 'a' been some
mistake about the report of Bob Hadley's death anyway."

Mostyn laughed heartily. Indeed, he was conscious of a growing sense
of deep content and restfulness. The turmoil of business and city life
seemed almost dreamlike in its remoteness from his present more
rational existence. With the handle of his whip Webb pointed to the
roof of the farmhouse, the fuzzy gray shingles of which were barely
showing above the trees by which it was shaded.

"You haven't told me how the family are," Mostyn said, "I suppose the
children are much larger now. Dolly, at least, must be a young lady,
from what Saunders tells me of her school-work."

Webb's blue eyes swept the face of the banker with a steady scrutiny.
There was a faint twinkle in their mystic depths as he replied.