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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Black Box"

He took a step forward, but Long Jim, as
though by accident, sauntered in the way.
"Got a warrant?" he asked tersely.
"We don't need it," Quest replied. "He's our man, right enough."
"Right this minute he's our cook," drawled Long Jim, "and we ain't exactly
particular about going hungry to please a bunch of strangers. Cut it
short, Mister. If you ain't got a warrant, you ain't got this man. Maybe
we don't sport finger-bowls and silk socks, but we're civilised enough not
to let no slim dude walk off with one of our boys without proper
authority. So you can just meander along back where you come from. Ain't
that right, boys?"
There was a sullen murmur of assent. Quest turned back and whispered for a
moment to the Inspector. Then he turned to Long Jim.
"All right," he agreed. "The Inspector here and I will soon see to that.
We'll ride back to the township. With your permission, the ladies and our
elderly friend will remain for a rest."
"You're welcome to anything we've got except our cook," Jim replied,
turning away....
Darkness came early and the little company grew closer and closer to the
camp fire, where Craig had once more taken up the violin. The Professor
had wandered off somewhere into the darkness and the girls were seated a
little apart. They had been treated hospitably but coldly.
"Don't seem to cotton to us, these boys," Laura remarked.
"They don't like us," Lenora replied, "because they think we are after
Craig. I wonder what Long Jim has been whispering to him, and what that
paper is he has been showing Craig.


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