"The boys up here
have been having a pretty long, dull winter, and such a move on our part
might have given them the idea that we were trying to break up their fun
this evening, which they wouldn't have stood for. Then, old Gallito's
popular here, God knows why, and if he'd asked the boys to stand by him
and they saw a chance of some excitement, why, we'd have had an
unnecessary mix-up. See? Not but what we'd have been a good deal more
than equal to any scrap they could have put up even if led by you and
old Gallito, but the sheriff didn't want any trouble of that kind when
it was so easy to avoid it."
"Good sense," commended Flick, "but are you so sure you've entirely
side-stepped that danger? There's after-the-ball-is-over still to be
considered."
"Trust old uncle wiseacre over there for that," said Hanson
vaingloriously, and nodding as he spoke toward the sheriff, who leaned
big and calm and watchful against the door at the back of the room.
"He's a born general. The plan, son, can't be beat. They know he's in
the Pearl's dressing room and they got the building well surrounded on
the outside. I guess it's a scheme that even such crafty crooks as
Gallito and--" He paused and quailed a little under Flick's steady
regard, the "_you_" he had meant to say died on his lips. From neither
victor nor victim did Bob Flick ever permit a familiarity. "Yes, there's
no getaway possible," he substituted hastily. "It'd be foolish of you
boys to try and put up a fight.
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