“Amos,” he chided, “you must be a man. You must bear up, my poor fellow. Aye, truly but ‘conscience doth make cowards of us all.’ You should strive to bear up under the burden, Amos.”
Broadcrook rolled his eyes about the room.
“I ain’t sayin’ as I’m sorry fer anythin’,” he growled, “an’ I ain’t sayin’ as I wouldn’t like t’ do more ner I have fer some o’ them Bushwhackers neither. It’s ’cause I’m scared Hallibut ’ll get me that I’m shaky, and besides, old Noah’s ghost has been ha’ntin’ me again. Gimme more whiskey an’ I’ll be all right.”
Watson poured out more of the spirits, and Amos drank greedily.
Watson’s eyes sought Smythe’s.
“They will be hunting you soon, Amos,” he said. “Colonel Hallibut has sworn to run you down. He says he will put his dogs on your track.”
“Lor’,” shuddered Amos, taking his head in his hands.
Smythe edged closer and whispered:
“We have ascertained that he will go to Bushwhackers’ Place before putting the dogs on you. Perhaps he wants something of yours to give the dogs a scent.”
Broadcrook lifted his haggard face.