either
Uncle Jeb nor any of those formidable scoutmasters or trustees were
anywhere near him. Not so much as an uproarious, aggressive tenderfoot
was at his heels. No constables, no deputy sheriffs, no one.

And then, just in that fleeting, perilous moment, Red Thornton knew Tom
Slade and he knew that this was their business and no one else's. He
came near to making an awful botch of things. He was breathing heavily
when Tom spoke to him.

"What are those fellows you were speaking about? Pen and ink sleuths?"
Tom asked. "They come to Temple Camp office, sometimes."

"That's them," Thornton said.

"When did you say they come?"

"Next Monday, first Monday in August. What's the difference? The sooner
the better," Thornton said.

"Was it just an even hundred that you took, when you forgot about what
you were doing, sort of?" Tom asked.

"A hundred and three."

"Then will twenty-three dollars be enough to get back to that place
where you live?"

"Why?"

"I'm just asking you."

"It's twenty-one forty."

"That means you'll have a dollar sixty for meals," Tom said, "unless you
have some of your own. Have you?"

Thornton seemed rather puzzled, but he jingled some coin in his pocket
and pulled out a five dollar bill and some change.

"Then it's all right," Tom said, "'cause if I asked anybody for money I
might have to tell them why. Here's two Liberty Bonds," he said, placing
his precious, and much creased documents in Thornton's hand. "You can
get them cashed in New York. You have to start this morning so as to
catch the eleven twenty train. I guess you'll get home to-morrow night
maybe, hey? You have to give them their money before those fellows get
there. You got to tell them how you made a mistake. Maybe if you don't
have quite enough you'll be able to get a little bit more. This is
because you helped me and on account of our being friends."

Thornton looked down into his hand and saw, through glistening eyes, the
two dilapidated bonds, and a couple of crumpled ten-dollar bills and
some odds and ends of smaller bills and currency. They represented the
sumptuous fortune of Lucky Luke, alias Tom Slade.

"And I thought you were going to ..." Thornton began; "Slady, I can't do
this; it's all you've got."

"It's no good to me," Tom said. "Anyway, you got to go back and get
there before those fellows do. Then you can fix it."

Thornton hesitated, then shook his head. Then he went over and sat on
the sill wh