“Wait. I’ll go along with you. But let me figure on this thing first.”
For a silent minute or two he fixedly regarded the blank wall. As steadily, she watched him. Soon he nodded.
“That’s the best way,” he said, half to himself. “I’d like to get him single-handed, but if he should get me instead—nobody else would know where he was hanging out. Yep, I’ll take some of the boys with me.” Turning his gaze to her, he announced decisively: “By to-morrow noon Snake will be dead or in a trap he can’t squirm out of. I found his hole to-day, and as soon as daylight comes I’ll get some of the fellows together and we’ll bottle him up. No use trying it to-night—I couldn’t find the place myself in the dark. But if all the trails are watched he can’t go anywhere else, and getting him will be easy. All we have to do is to sit around like a bunch of terriers watching a rat-hole, and when he comes out—nothing to it!”
“Where? Where is it?” she demanded. “Are you sure it’s his place? Mebbe—mebbe some of the boys——”
“No, it’s none of the boys,” he smiled. “The boys have cleaned up all their places lately—hid everything somewhere, so the detectives wouldn’t see too much if they went poking around. And I know this is Snake’s place because his jug is there—green paint on one side—remember? I’ll tell you all about it some other time. But now—say, here’s an idea! I’ll try to get those detectives both up there, and while we know where they are you go to Steve and try to make him leave that cold hole of his and find a better place. If he wants to make a run for it and leave the Traps awhile, nobody’ll stop him——”
A shake of the head negatived his budding plan.
“He won’t run, and he won’t change, and he won’t listen to sense,” she declared. “He’s more set and wild than ever now. He’s got to git Snake, he says, ’fore somebody else does. I hadn’t ought to told him, mebbe. But I did tell him—I went to him jest now and told him ’bout Lou and all. I jest got back from there—I ain’t even been home yet. I wish I’d kept still. He’s crazy as a coot. He swore he’d come out and git Snake his own self, detectives or no detectives, and he’d take pop’s gun to do it with. I had an awful time quietin’ him down. He’s sick again, too—his lung’s bad some more.”
“Good Lord! Sick again?”
“Yes, sick again. He looks awful bad. I dunno if he—— But I’d better git ’long home. He’s so wild about Snake he might come and git that gun, sick or no sick.”
“But you said you quieted him down.”