[CHAPTER XVII.—MR. WILLETT LEARNS THE NEWS.]
Collins, and his partner, Brill, were at heart as tender as they were brave.
They reasoned that Mr. Willett should know the news the messenger brought back from Gold Cave Camp, yet neither felt like conveying it to the unhappy man.
"Somebody's got to tell him," said Brill, to his partner, "and as you've got the best gift of gab, Collins, I reckon you're the feller to do it."
"If it comes down whar I've got to speak my mind and tell a sneakin' feller jest what I think of him," replied Collins, "I ain't slow, and I find I'm flush of words 'bout that time, but tellin' a man his son's dead, and that that 'ar paper he sent for to save his own life, ain't agoin to be perduced, why, that's an entirely different matter, and I'd a sight rather contract out the job to some chap as don't mind sich things."
"See har, pard, I've got an idear."
"Let's have it," said Collins, much relieved.
"I think we'd better do this kinder by slow degrees like. What do you say?"
"Why, I say, Brill, ole feller, I don't catch on to the drift of your ore bed," said Collins.
"I mean through Hank Tims."