CHAPTER XVIII
THE TOWN OF BATTLESBURG FINDS A PRIVATE RAILROAD CAR IN ITS MIDST!
Sleep, blessed sleep! Desperately Wallingford fought it off until the lawyer had arrived and the necessary documents had been signed, and then, more dead than alive, he allowed himself to be bundled into a cab.
“Now, J. Rufus,” said Blackie Daw as he jumped in beside him, “we have your affairs all wound up and a red ribbon tied around them, so let’s ‘tend to Happy Horace. I’m a bridegroom! Congratulate muh.”
“Huh?” grunted J. Rufus, and immediately there followed another succession of unintelligible sounds. Wallingford was snoring.
It was precisely twenty-four hours before Mr. Daw could convey this important information to his friend and make him understand it, and it was not until they had arrived in Jer
