“Those lectures never last later than ten. I’d have a cab take Mabel home, drop her, and have cabby land me at this ranch in double-quick order.”
“Well, you ought to thank your luck that you’re not compelled to listen to that lecture. Don’t you hear lectures enough?”
“Listen!” snorted Buckhart. “What’s the matter with you, pard? You don’t suppose I was going to that lecture with the idea of listening to it, do you? I was going to take a girl—the girl—the only girl. I was going to steal a lap on Claxton. I wouldn’t care if the old lecture was about the Hottentots or the Zulus. Partner, I’m going to get into that lecture if I have to pay a ten-dollar premium on tickets. You hear me warble!”
But the Texan did not forget it, and on Thursday he triumphantly announced that he had secured tickets by paying double price for them.
“Well, you’d better consult Jones about staying out after ten to-night,” advised Dick.
Brad consulted Blessed and was given permission to attend the lecture on his pledge to lose no time about getting to bed after it was over.
“Going to do this thing up brown, partner,” chuckled Buckhart, as he dressed that evening. “My carriage will call for me at seven-thirty. If you happen to see Claxy this evening, be good enough to find a way to tell him that I’ve taken Miss Ditson to the lecture. That sure ought to bump him some.”
In spite of his promise to seek the mattress as quickly as possible after the lecture was over, Brad permitted himself to be lured into the house by Mabel, who told him that Barbara wished to see him. He did not stop many minutes, but came out in high good spirits, bounded down the steps, reached the waiting cab, flung open the door, and jumped in.
He sprang into the enfolding arms of some one who was sitting inside the cab. Those arms, clasped about his own, held him like bands of steel.
“Whoop!” roared the Texan, in astonishment. “Whatever does this mean?”
“Lively with that stuff! Come on, quick!”
Then Brad perceived a dark figure in front of him and suddenly a sickly, pungent odor assailed his nostrils. A handkerchief saturated with chloroform was held over his mouth and nose.
The Texan put up a savage fight, but his efforts were futile, and in the end he was overcome, sinking helpless in the arms of the fellow who had clung to him with such fierce tenacity through it all.