Van hauled at his collar, which was loose enough around his neck.

“Say, boys,” he said, “think of Algy, being kissed in the bargain.  I always thought he got his face at a bargain counter.”

“That’s all right, Bronson Van Buren!” answered Mrs. Dick indignantly, “but I never come that near to kissin’ you!”

Van suddenly swooped down upon her, picked her up bodily, and kissed her on the cheek.  Then he placed her again on the box.

“Why didn’t you say what you wanted, earlier?” he said.  “Now, don’t talk back.  I want you to harken intently.  I’m perfectly willing that Algy should waste his sweetness on the desert air of your boarding-house, if it pleases you and him.  I’m willing these old ring-tailed galoots should continue to eat his fascinating poisons, and I certainly hope he’ll draw his monthly wage, but I’m going to be too busy to board in any one place, and Algy’s salary would make a load I must certainly decline to carry.”

Mrs. Dick looked at the horseman in utter disappointment.

“You won’t come?  Maybe you mean my house ain’t good enough?”

Napoleon was somewhat excited by prospects of again beholding Elsa, of whose absence he was wholly unaware.

“We won’t go, neither!” he declared.  “Doggone you, Van, you know we won’t go without the skipper, and you’re shovin’ us right out of heaven!”

Gettysburg added:  “I don’t want to say nuthin’, but my stomach will sure be the seat of anarchy if it has to git cheated out of goin’ down to Mrs. Dick’s.”

Van was about to reply to them all.  He had paused to frame his answer artfully, eager as he was to foster the comfort of his three old partners, but wholly unwilling to accept from either Mrs. Dick or Algernon the slightest hint of aid.

“I admit that a man’s reach should be above the other fellow’s grasp, and all that,” he started, “but here’s the point——­”

He was interrupted suddenly.  A man, running breathlessly up the slope and waving his hat in frantic gestures, began to shout as he came.

“Mrs. Dick!  Mrs. Dick!” he cried at the top of his voice.  “Help! help!  You’ve got to come!”

Mrs. Dick leaped quickly to her feet to face the oncoming man.  It was old Billy Stitts.  He had come from Beth.

“Come on!  Come on!” he cried as he neared the group, towards which he ceased to run, the better to catch his breath and yell.  “There’s hell a-poppin’ in the boarding-house!  You’ve got to come!”

He surged up the last remaining ascent at a lively stride.

“What’s the matter?  What in the world are you drivin’ at?” demanded Mrs. Dick.  “Hold your tongue long enough to tell me what’s the matter.”

“It’s the chink!” exploded Billy pantingly.  “They tried to run him off the place!  He’s locked the kitchen and gone to throwin’ out hot water and Chinese language like a fire-engine on a drunk.  And now they’re all a-packin’ up to quit the house, and you won’t have a doggone boarder left, fer they won’t eat Chinese chuck!”