Jake Gets Into Difficulties

"Why didn't you put him into his own bed?" Dick asked the negro.

"He go in, señor, and come out quick. Say no possible he stop. Maldito
bed is damp."

Bethune smiled. "There'll be a big washbasket for the lavenderas
to-morrow, but we must take his wet clothes off." He shook Jake. "You've
got to wake up!"

After a time Jake opened his eyes and blinked at Bethune. "All right!
You're not as fat as Salvador, and you can catch that chair. The fool
thing follows me and keeps getting in my way."

"Come out," Bethune ordered him, and turned to the negro. "Where's his
pyjamas?"

Salvador brought a suit, and Dick, who dragged Jake out of bed, asked:
"How did you get into this mess?"

"Fell into pond behind the dam; not safe that pond. Put a shingle up
to-morrow, 'Keep off the grass.' No, that'sh not right. Let'sh try again.
'Twenty dollars fine if you spit on the sidewalk.'"

Bethune grinned at Dick. "It's not an unusual notice in some of our
smaller towns, and one must admit it's necessary. However, we want to get
him into dry clothes."

Jake gave them some trouble, but they put him in a re-made bed and went
back to the verandah, where Bethune sat down.

"Fuller has his good points, but I guess you find him something of a
responsibility," he remarked.

"I do," said Dick, with feeling. "Still, this is the first time he has
come home the worse for liquor. I'm rather worried about it, because it's
a new trouble."