Maurice nodded. "They said thieves at the store." Forgotten, for the moment, was old Scroggie's ghost and the buried treasure in this new something which promised mystery and adventure.
"Hully Gee!" whispered Billy. "Ain't that rippin'."
"Ain't it jest?" agreed Maurice. "Say, Bill, there ain't no law ag'in shootin' robbers is there—store-robbers, I mean?"
"Naw, why should there be? That's what you're supposed to do, if you get the chance—shoot 'em, an' get the reward."
"What's a reward?"
"Why, it's money, you ninny! You kill the robbers an' you get the church collection an' lots of other money besides. Then you're rich an' don't ever have to do any work; jest fish an' hunt an' give speeches at tea-meetin's an' things."
"Oh, hokey! ain't that great. How'd you come to know all that, Bill?"
"Why I read it in Anson's book, 'Trigger-Finger Tim er Dead er Alive.' Oh, it's all hunky, I tell you."
"But, Bill, how we goin' to kill them robbers?"
"Ain't goin' to kill 'em," his friend replied. "Trigger-Finger Tim never killed his; he took 'em all alive. All he did was crease their skulls with bullets, an' scrape their spines with 'em, an' when they come to they'd find themselves tied hand an' foot, an' Trigger-Finger smokin' his cigarette an' smilin' down on 'em."