ceremoniously interrupted the conference just as the invalid was polishing off a rude but honest opinion of the intellectual calibre of one of the three, named Marrophat, who figured as his right-hand man and familiar genius.
"Amen to that!" the boyish person ejaculated. "There's many a true word spoken in wrath, Mr. Marrophat. Father forgot only one thing—your masterly way with a revolver. There's something downright uncanny in the way you can hit anything but what you aim at!"
To this Mr. Marrophat found nothing to say, but there was great eloquence in his manner of performing one of the minor gestures in the repertoire of every properly barefaced scoundrel—the trick known as biting the lip.
"Judith!" exclaimed the invalid. "Where did you drop from?"
"From that freight," Judith explained carelessly, neglecting to elucidate the exact fashion of drop. "I judged you'd be along presently, and thought I'd like to learn the news. Well, what luck?"
Her father shrugged with his one movable shoulder. The others shuffled uneasily.
"None?" Judith interpreted. "You don't mean to tell me that after I had cast the caboose loose on the middle of that trestle you didn't have the nerve to go through with the business!"
