Soon he returned, to the merriment of
the fellows in the barbershop, with two or three solid citizens who
had been smoking an after-breakfast cigar and planning a deer
hunt. They stood before the window in a row and read the notice.
Mcllvaine gesticulated with his cigar.
"Gentlemen, there's a pig loose here."
"One o' Link's jokes, I reckon."
"But that's Sanford's writin'. An' here it is nine o'clock, and no one
round. I don't like the looks of it, myself."
The crowd thickened; the fellows came out of the blacksmith
shop, while the jokers in the barbershop smote their knees and
yelled with merriment.
"What's up?" queried Vance, coming up and repeating the
universal question.
McIlvaine pointed at the poster with his cigar.
Vance read the notice, while the crowd waited silently.
"What ye think of it?"asked someone impatiently. Vance smoked a
moment. "Can't say. Where's Jim?"
"That's it! Where is he?"
"Best way to find out is to send a boy up to the house." He called a
boy and sent him scurrying up the street.
The crowd now grew sober and discussed possibilities. "If that's
true, it's the worst crack on the head I ever had," said Mcllvaine.
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