“But, Slim—”
“Dat’s all from me. Take it or leave it.”
“But w’ere’ll youse be w’en it comes time to hand me dis big money?”
“I’m travelin’ right along wid youse, ol’-timer. Youse won’t have no trouble findin’ me w’en de time comes. Now go on back to de fire, an’ be ready to make dat freight w’en she rambles in. I’ll ketch ’er too—don’t worry about me. Get de kid in a boxcar, an’ I’ll ride outside an’ be ready to square de shack if it looks like he’s gonta ditch youse guys. An’ if youse get ditched an’ get another train, keep headin’ West. Dat’s all—leave de rest to me.”
“I don’t like it,” said The Whimperer.
“But youse’re gonta do it jes’ de same, ain’t youse?” sneered Wolfgang, and went his way through the sand of the river bottom.
Mumbling to himself, The Whimperer returned to the fire to find Joshua still peacefully sleeping. There he sat himself down and fell to dreaming, his piggish black eyes fixed unseeingly on the blaze.
“Dere’s wot youse might call a dark plot on foot,” he muttered softly. “Dat Slim Wolfgang’s a bad acter, fer a kid, an’ I’m wonderin’—jes’ wonderin’. Who is dis here telescope guy, anyway? Dat’s wot I’m wonderin’.”
He continued his wondering for an hour or more, half dozing at times, but too old a hand on the road to allow himself full sleep when a train that he wished to catch was nearly due. And when there came to his half-hearing ears the distant long shriek of a locomotive he was instantly alert and bending over Joshua.
“C’mon, kid!” he warned, shaking the boy awake. “Come out of it an’ get yer look-see. She’s ramblin’ to us.”