Ha,
ha! We were jest a _leetle_ too many fer 'em, huh?"
From an upper tier of seats the rusty length of Mr. Martin erected itself
joint by joint, like an extension ladder, and he peered down over the
gaping faces at the Town Marshal. "Excuse me," he said sadly to those
behind him, but his dry voice penetrated everywhere, "I got up to hear Jim
say 'We' again."
Mr. Bardlock joined in the laugh against himself, and proceeded with his
wife to some seats, forty or fifty feet distant. When he had settled
himself comfortably, he shouted over cheerfully to the unhappy editor:
"Them shell-men got it in fer you, Mr. Harkless."
"Ain't that fool shet up _yit_?" snarled the aged Mr. Bodeffer,
indignantly. He was sitting near the young couple, and the expression of
his sympathy was distinctly audible to them and many others. "Got no more
regards than a brazing calf-disturbin' a feller with his sweetheart!"
"The both of 'em says they're goin' to do fer you," bleated Mr. Bardlock.
"Swear they'll git their evens with ye."
Mr. Martin rose again. "Don't git scared and leave town, Mr. Harkless," he
called out; "Jim'll protect you."
Vastly to the young man's relief the band began to play, and the
equestrians and equestriennes capered out from the dressing-tent for the
"Grand Entrance," and the performance commenced.
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