"Sit down!" I told him.

"Just let me out of here," he said again. And before I could stop him,
he'd gone, too, in a blind hurry.

Bob and I were left alone, and not talking any.

Not for a while. Then Bob said: "Where do you reckon he's gone?"

"Reckon who's gone?"

"Genz."

"To see Lafe."

"What?"

"Of course he has. What else can he do? He's gone up any way. The best
he can do is to try to square himself a little by owning up the whole
thing. Gorgett will know it all any way, tomorrow afternoon, when the
_Herald_ comes out."

"I guess you're right," said Bob. "We're done up along with Gorgett;
but I believe that idiot's right, he won't lose votes by playing hob
with _us_. What's to be done?"

"Nothing," I answered. "You can't head Farwell off. It's all my fault,
Bob."