What Mr. Adoiphus Hanks would say was a question, when later on he came to look over the latest issue of the family paper, and discovered such liberties on the part of the “cub” reporter, raised for one day to the responsible position of editor. But then Jim was smooth-tongued enough to settle all that with his boss, for Jim could talk almost anyone into believing that black was white. Possibly he would think it the best policy to confide the whole story to Mr. Hanks, and explain just how it had been done in the public policy. Adoiphus was not such a bad sort of fellow, and really believed that he took a leading part in the upbuilding of the morals of Scranton; so he might forgive Jim’s breaking away from the long-established policy of the family paper, which allowed of but little sensationalism.
Well, it was a great story! Jim had allowed his imagination full swing, that was certain. He spoke of actually running across the stern official from Texas, and making his acquaintance under rather dramatic conditions connected with a broken-down car on the road. Then he launched forth into a vivid description of how the minion of justice confided to him the reason for his being there so far distant from the field of his customary useful and perilous operations. Sly little hints were conveyed in his mention of the rascal whom he had vowed to find, and take back with him to Texas, there to pay the penalty for breaking the laws. Why, surely the guilty conscience of Brother Lu must discover a description of himself in every word that the imaginary marshal uttered.
The two boys finished at about the same time. Their eyes met in a stare, and Thad gave utterance to a whistle.
“Whew! Jim is sure a dandy when it comes to write-ups, isn’t he, though, Hugh?” he breathed softly, for the proprietor of the “Emporium” happened to be bustling about the place, and was evidently a bit curious to know just what there could be in that week’s edition of the Courier to so plainly interest Hugh and his chum.
“He certainly is,” admitted Hugh. “Why, you can almost see that Marshal Hastings walking before you, and looking as if he had his eagle eye fixed on you for keeps. Jim’s described him so smartly that it would apply to almost any Western sheriff or marshal we’ve ever seen in the movies.”
“But just think how the cold creeps will chase up and down the spinal column of that miserable sneak of a hobo when he glimpses this article,” chuckled Thad. “I can imagine him starting, and his eyes nearly popping out of his head as he gets busy devouring the whole thing. And, then, Hugh, what d’ye reckon his next move will be?” Hugh shrugged his shoulders as he slowly replied:
“Honestly now, Thad, I give it up. If he’s really guilty, as we believe, why, of course, he’ll not wait on the order of his going, but skip out like a prairie fire, and we’ll be shut of him. But there’s always the doubt. In fact, we never can be sure we’ve struck the right nail on the head until we see Lu hitting the high places, and never even looking back.”