Isn't that so?"
Jack gulped unashamedly, and turned his head away. "Something like
that," he said, in a muffled voice.
The older man dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry too much,
my boy," he said. "We may appeal to Washington, and let the
consequences go hang, if that is the only way to bring back your
father. But we don't want to act too hastily. Let's turn in now and
get a good night's sleep. Then in the morning we'll decide on
something definite."
It had been a long discussion, and Bob and Frank were content to do as
Mr. Temple proposed. Jack, perforce, agreed, although the strain of
the last few days, which he had carried alone, was beginning to tell
on him and he yearned for instant action. He showed the others to
their rooms, Bob and Mr. Temple sharing Mr. Hampton's room, and Frank
bunking in with Jack himself.
After Frank had undressed and tumbled into bed, so dog-tired, as he
said, that he could barely keep his eyes open to see the way to his
pillow, Jack went out to stand in the starlight on the porch. After
leaning against a pillar some minutes, during which his active brain
kept milling endlessly over the details of the past few days, he had
an impulse to go over to the radiophone station and talk to the guard,
an ex-cowboy, on duty there since the attack by three Mexicans at the
time this story opened.
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