The line of miserable men laughed, not with mirth so much as for the sake of any diversion, and at the laugh Danner’s face and neck colored a deeper red. The Kid saw this change in color and went on: "Please don’t laugh, gentlemen; you’re disturbing the main screw." And then, lifting his eyebrows, he leaned forward a little and said: "Can’t I help you, papa?" Danner paid no attention, but he was rapidly growing angry. "I’d be glad to sling your ink for you, papa," the Kid went on, "and anyway you’d better splice yourself in the middle of the line before we start, or you might get lost. You know you’re not used to traveling or to the ways of the world--" "Cheese it, Kid," said the Deacon warningly. But the spirit of deviltry which he had never been able to resist, and indeed had never tried very hard to resist, was upon the Kid, and he went on: "Deac, pipe the preacher clothes! And the brand new kicks, and the mush! They must have put him on the nut for ten ninety-eight." "He’ll soak you with a sap if you don’t cheese it," said the Deacon. "Oh, no, a nice old pappy guy like him wouldn’t, would you?" the Kid persisted. "He knows I’m speaking for his good. I want him to chain himself to us so’s he won’t get lost; if he’d get away and fall off the rattler, he’d never catch us again." "Well, I could catch you all right," said Danner, stopping and looking up. "Why, my dear boy," said the Kid, "you couldn’t track an elephant through the snow." The line laughed again, even the under-turnkeys could not repress their smiles. But Danner made a great effort that showed in the changing hues of scarlet that swept over his face, and he choked down his anger. He put on his overcoat and picked up his satchel, and said: "Come on, now." Utter unlocked the outer doors, and the line of men filed out. "Good-by, Bud," the Kid called to Utter. "If you ever get down to the dump, look me up." The others bade Utter good-by, for they all liked him, and as the line shuffled down the stone steps the men eagerly inhaled the fresh air they had not breathed for weeks, save for the few minutes consumed in going over to the court-house and back, and a thrill of gladness momentarily ran through the line. Then the Kid called out: "Hold on, Danner!" He halted suddenly, and so jerked the whole line to an abrupt standstill. "I’ve left my mackintosh in my room!" "If you don’t shut up, I’ll smash your jaw!" The Kid’s laugh rang out in the air. "Yes, that’d be just about your size!" he said. Danner turned quickly toward the Kid, but just at that instant a dark fluttering form flew out of the misty gloom and enveloped Schypalski; it was his wife, who had been waiting all the afternoon outside the jail. She clung to the Pole, who was as surprised as any of them, and she wept and kissed him in her Slavonic fashion,--wept and kissed as only the Slavs can weep and kiss. Then Danner, when he realized what had occurred, seized her and flung her aside.