"There'll be the devil to pay in this burg before two
hours."
He slipped out the back way, taking the keys with him. "I'll go and
tell uncle, and then we'll see if Jim can't turn in the house on our
account," he thought as he harnessed a team to drive out to
McPhail's.
The first man to try the door was an old Norwegian in a spotted
Mackinac jacket and a fur cap, with the inevitable little red tippet
about his neck. He turned the knob, knocked, and at last saw the
writing, which he could not read, and went away to tell Johnson
that the bank was closed. Johnson thought nothing special of that;
it was early, and they weren't very particular to open on time,
anyway.
Then the barber across the street tried to get in to have a bill
changed. Trying to peer in the window, he saw the notice, which
he read with a grin.
"One o' Link's jobs," he explained to the fellows in the shop. "He's
too darned lazy to open on time, so he puts up notice that the bank
is busted."
"Let's go and see."
"Don't do it! He's watchin' to see us all rush across and look. Just
keep quiet, and see the solid citizens rear around."
Old Orrin McIlvaine came out of the post office and tried the door
next, then stood for a long time reading the notice, and at last
walked thoughtfully away.
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