"It's vain to make such wishes now;" and then something occurred to him. He had been to the bank, but had, fortunately, not deposited all he had. "Say, Governor," he cried, "if a man should put up money when he is taken before the clerk, or whoever it is that receives us, would they allow him to return without locking him up?" His inquiry was eager. The other replied: "Most assuredly." "Good! How much will I have to put up to keep from being locked up?" "About ten dollars and seventy-five cents." Wyeth did some counting. "I have ten fifty. Will they let me out on that?" "I think so." "What you goin' do 'bout me?" put in the chauffeur. "Do about you!" said Wyeth. "What you going to do about yourself? I'm not your guardian." "But I ain' got bu' fifty cents," he wailed despairingly. "Then methinks you will sleep on Dalton street tonight." They had arrived at the station by this time. Wyeth recalled a few hours before with a feeling of awe, as he recognized the place and the words the man had used. "What's your name?" demanded the clerk of the chauffeur. "Boise Demon." "Yours!" Wyeth gave it, and as the clerk made a record of it, he made inquiry regarding a bond. "All right. Ten seventy-five." "I have but ten fifty." "See the sargent." "What's the charge?" inquired that orderly, coming forward. "Id'ling and loitering." "Let him off for ten." "Pay me out, pay me out!" trembled the chauffeur. "Shut up!" commanded Sidney. "Haven't you heard me say I had but ten fifty?" "Then do'n go, do'n go; stay with me!" "Like Hell, I will!" exclaimed Wyeth with a laugh. The officers standing about, laughed also, and said: "Don't be 'fraid, honey. You'll have lots a-company." Wyeth handed over ten dollars, and a moment later passed into the street where a soft rain was falling. "Jesus," he muttered; "I'm sure glad I kept that money." And then, ere he had got far, he heard a cell door clang, and thought about Demon. At the same moment, there came to his ears the music of many throats singing: "Don't you leave me here!" CHAPTER ELEVEN "_Jedge L'yles' Co't_" Wyeth sneaked into the room without waking Thurman that morning. Nor did he inform him of his good fortune, when the other arose two hours later to go to work. He did not sleep any that night, and, since he had to be to the court at eight-thirty or forfeit his bond, he arose early, dressed, and in due time, he sat in the large theatre.