"Facts is facts," he finished.
"Everybody knows you found old Mr.McBride--" said Custer rather eagerly.
"I'm expecting to hear it hinted I didn't!" replied Mr.Shrimplin darkly.

"I'm expecting to hear it stated by some natural-born liar that I set in my cart and bellered for help!" "But you didn't, and nobody says you did," insisted the boy.
"Well, I'm glad you don't have to take my word for it," said Shrimplin.
"I'm glad them facts is a matter of official record up to the court-house.

I don't know, though, that I care so blame much about being held up as a public character; if I hadn't a reputation out of the common, maybe I wouldn't be misjudged when I stand back to give some one else a chance!" He laughed with large scorn of the world's littleness.
The epic of William Shrimplin was taking to itself its old high noble strain, and Custer was aware of a sneaking sense of shame that he could have doubted even for an instant; then swiftly the happy consciousness stole in on him that he had been weighed in the balance by this specialist in human courage and had not been found wanting.

And his heart waxed large in his thin little body.
They were jogging along Mount Hope's deserted streets when Marshall Langham roused from his stupor.
"Where are you taking me ?" he demanded of the boy.
"Home, Mr.Langham--we're almost there now," responded Custer.
"Take me to my father's," said Marshall with an effort, and his head fell over on Custer's small shoulder.
He did not speak again until Bill came to a stand before Judge Langham's gate.
"Are we there ?" he asked of the boy.
"Yes--" "Don't you think we'd better get help ?" said Shrimplin.
And Marshall seeming to acquiesce in this, the little lamplighter entered the yard and going to the front door rang the bell.

A minute passed, and growing impatient he rang again.