However, no one had, so far as I could see, paid the
slightest attention to the pony, and the probabilities were that he
was already headed for Baldwin's ranch, with no likelihood of his
stopping till he reached home. At least that was what I hoped; but
there were a lot of ponies standing about, and, not knowing the
markings of the one I had ridden, I wasn't able to tell whether he
might not be among them.
Just as the fragments of the papers were passed over to Mr. Camp, he
was joined by Baldwin and the judge, and Camp held the torn pieces up
to them, saying--
"They've torn the proxies in two."
"Don't let that trouble you," said the judge. "Make an affidavit
before me, reciting the manner in which they were destroyed, and
I'll grant you a mandamus compelling the directors to accept them as
bona-fide proxies. Let me see how much injured they are."
Camp unfolded the papers, and I chuckled to myself at the look of
surprise that overspread his face as he took in the fact that they
were nothing but section reports. And, though I don't like cuss-words,
I have to acknowledge that I enjoyed the two or three that he promptly
ejaculated.
When the first surprise of the trio was over, they called on the
sheriff, who arrived opportunely, to take us into 97 and search the
three of us--a proceeding that puzzled Fred and his lordship not a
little, for they weren't on to the fact that the letters hadn't been
recovered. I presume the latter will some day write a book dwelling on
the favorite theme of the foreigner, that there is no personal privacy
in America, and I don't know but his experiences justify the view.
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