Francis Charles tore open the letter, read it hastily, and turned with sparkling eyes to his friend. His friend, for his part, sighed profoundly. "Oh Francis, Francis!" he chided. "Here, you howling idiot; read it!" said Francis. The idiot took the letter and read: DEAR MR. BOLAND: I need your help. Mr. Johnson, a friend of Stanley's--his best friend--is up here from Arizona upon business of the utmost importance, both to himself and Stanley. I have only this moment had word that Mr. Johnson is in the most serious trouble. To be plain, he is in Vesper Jail. There has been foul play, part and parcel of a conspiracy directed against Stanley. Please come at once. I claim your promise. Mary Selden Ferdie handed it back. "My friend's friend is my friend? And so on, _ad infinitum_, like fleas with little fleas to bite 'em--that sort of thing--what? Does that let me in? I seem to qualify in a small-flealike way." "You bet you do, old chap! That's the spirit! Do you rush up and present my profound apologies to the ladies--important business matter. I'll be getting out the buzz wagon. You shall see Mary Selden. You shall also see how right well and featly our no-bél and intrepid young hero bore himself, just a-pitchin' and a-rarin', when inclination jibed with jooty!" Two minutes later they took the curve by the big gate on two wheels. As they straightened into the river road, Mr. Sedgwick spread one hand over his heart, rolled his eyes heavenward and observed with fine dramatic effect: "'I claim your pr-r-r-r-omise'!" Mr. Johnson sat in a cell of Vesper Jail, charged with assault and battery in the _n_th degree; drunk and disorderly understood, but that charge unpreferred as yet. It is no part of legal method to bring one accused of intoxication before the magistrate at once, so that the judicial mind may see for itself. By this capital arrangement, the justly intoxicated may be acquitted for lack of convincing evidence, after they have had time to sober up; while the unjustly accused, who should go free on sight, are at the mercy of such evidence as the unjust accuser sees fit to bring or send. The Messrs. Poole had executed their commission upon Vesper Bridge, pouncing upon Mr. Johnson as he passed between them, all unsuspecting. They might well have failed in their errand, however, had it not been that Mr. Johnson was, in a manner of speaking, in dishabille, having left his gun at the hotel. Even so, he improvised several new lines and some effective stage business before he was overpowered by numbers and weight. The brothers Poole were regarded with much disfavor by Undersheriff Barton, who made the arrest; but their appearance bore out their story. It was plain that some one had battered them.