At the little hotel where I had supper there was no topic of
conversation except the wreck. But the proprietor, when I
paid my bill, happened to notice Parnassus in the yard.
"That's the bus that pedlar sold you, ain't it?" he asked
with a leer.
"Yes," I said, shortly.
"Goin' back to prosecute him, I guess?" he suggested. "Say,
that feller's a devil, believe _me_. When the sheriff tried to
put the cuffs on him he gave him a black eye and pretty near
broke his jaw. Some scrapper fer a midget!"
My own brave little fighter, I thought, and flushed with pride.
The road back to Port Vigor seemed endless. I was a little
nervous, remembering the tramps in Pratt's quarry, but with
Bock sitting beside me on the seat I thought it craven to be
alarmed. We rumbled gently through the darkness, between
aisles of inky pines where the strip of starlight ran like a
ribbon overhead, then on the rolling dunes that overlook the
water. There was a moon, too, but I was mortally tired and
lonely and longed only to see my little Redbeard. Peg was
weary, too, and plodded slowly. It must have been midnight
before we saw the red and green lights of the railway signals
and I knew that Port Vigor was at hand.
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