ed to take whatever it was he has
taken.... I'd be sure he was _bad_. If I made up my mind he'd just been
green and a fool--well, I'd see to it he never was that kind of a fool
again.... But not by jailing him."

"Um!... Three thousand's a lot of money."

"Mr. Baines, I see men and other kinds of men from behind my cigar
counter--and the kind of a man Ovid Nixon _could_ be is worth more than
that."

"Mebby so.... Mebby so. But if I was investin' in Ovid, I'd want some
sort of a guarantee with him. Would you be willin' to furnish the
guarantee? And see it was kept good?"

"If you mean what I think you do--yes," she said, steadily. "I'd marry
Ovid to-morrow."

"Him bein' a thief?"

"Girls that sell cigars aren't so select," she said, a trifle bitterly.

"Pansy," said Scattergood, and he patted her back with a heavy hand that
was, nevertheless, gentle, "if 'twan't for Mandy, that I've up and
married already, I calc'late I'd try to cut Ovid out.... But then I've
kinder observed that every woman you meet up with, if she's bein'
crowded by somethin' hard and mean, strikes you as bein' better 'n any
other woman you ever see. I call to mind a number.... Ovid some attached
to you, is he?"

"He's never made love to me, if that's what you mean."

"Think you could land him--for his good and yourn?"

"I--why, I think I could," she said.

"Is it a bargain?"

"What?"

"For, and in consideration of one dollar to you in hand paid, and the
further consideration of you undertakin' to keep an eye on him till
death do you part, I agree to keep him out of jail--and without nobody
knowin' he was ever anythin' but honest--and a dum fool."

She held out her hand and Scattergood took it.

"What's got Ovid into this here mess?"

"Bucket shop," she said.

"Um!... They been lettin' him make a mite of money--up to now, eh? So he
calc'lated on gittin' rich at one wallop. Kind of led him along, I
calc'late, till they got him to swaller hook, line, and sinker ... and
then they up and jerked him floppin' on to the bank.... Who owns this
here bucket shop?"

"Tim Peaney."

"Perty slick, is he?"

"Slick enough to take care of Ovid and sheep like him--but I can't help
thinking he's a sheep himself."

"He got Ovid's three thousand, or Ovid 'u'd 'a' come back Sunday
night.... Got to find Ovid--and got to git that money back."

"I've an idea Ovid's right in town. If you're suspicious, and keep your
eyes open, you can tell when so