However that was, Sandy had made a clean get-away into a region where he would be hard to catch. He was familiar with the trails, the passes, the little basins and pockets nestling in the hills. He was well provisioned and well armed. And the last caused Casey some uneasiness, for having once resisted arrest Sandy would be very apt to do so again.
"Simon," he said, "I want you to take papah letter to Tom."
"Where Tom stop?" Simon asked naturally enough.
"Maybe at Sunk Springs," Casey replied. "Maybe not. You try Sunk Springs. S'pose no Tom stop there, you nanitch around till you find him."
"All right," said Simon. "Me nanitch, me find Tom." He considered a moment. "Halo grub stop me?"
"I'll tell them to grubstake you here," Casey reassured him. "I'll pay you, too, of course."
"You my tillikum," said Simon, with great dignity. "Tom my tillikum. Good! Me like you. How much you pay?"
"Two dollars a day," said Casey promptly.
Simon looked grieved and pained. "You my tillikum," he repeated. "S'pose my tillikum work for me, me pay him five dolla'."
But Casey was unmoved by this touching appeal to friendship. "I'll remember that if I ever work for you," he replied. "Two dollars and grub is plenty. You Siwashes are spoiled by people who don't know any better than to pay what you ask. That's all you'll get from me. Your time's worth nothing, and your cayuses rustle for themselves."