I remember my hat blowing off as I got up, but I thought
it was the wind. Where did you find it, kid?"
"Back there by the fence."
"We must have that hat for evidence," said the constable. "Shows
the calibre of the bullet, and all that. Bring it down to the office
in the morning, Mr. Thane. Better put it on now. You'll ketch cold
out here bareheaded."
By this time the lane and grounds were alive with excited people,--men,
women and children. Several automobiles approached, sounding their
horns. Men were shouting directions, dogs were barking, small
children were squalling lustily. Shadowy, indistinct figures scuttled
through the darkness, here and there coming into bold relief as
they passed before the lamps of automobiles or entered the radius
of light shed by an occasional lantern. Half the town was already
on the scene, and the belated remainder was either on the way or
grimly guarding cash drawers in empty, deserted stores.
Courtney reluctantly announced that he did not feel up to accompanying
the searchers, his leg was bothering him so. No, he didn't need a
doctor. The confounded thing simply gave out on him whenever he got
the least bit reckless, but it seldom if ever amounted to anything.
Only made him realize that he couldn't "get gay" with it. He'd be
all right in a day or two. Hobble a little, that's all,--like a
lame dog.
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