Mark was indignant “What's the sheriff and constables good for?” he cried. “It's a burnin' shame that the whole country has been plundered so long, and the fellow still runnin' at large. Much he cares for the five hundred dollars on his head.”
“It's a thousand, now,” said Barton. “They've doubled it.”
“Come, that'd be a good haul for us. We're not bound to keep inside of our township; I'm for an up and down chase all over the country, as soon as the fall work's over!”
“And I, too,” said Gilbert
“You 're fellows after my own heart, both o' you!” Barton asserted, slapping them upon the back. “What'll you take to drink?”
By this time several others had assembled, and the conversation became general. While the flying rumors about Sandy Flash were being produced and discussed, Barton drew Gilbert aside.
“Suppose we step out on the back-porch,” he said, “I want to have a word with you.”
The door closed between them and the noisy bar-room. There was a rustling noise under the porch, as of a fowl disturbed on its roost, and then everything was still.
“Your speaking of your having done well by hauling put it into my head, Gilbert,” Barton continued. “I wanted to borrow a little money for a while, and there's reasons why I shouldn't call upon anybody who'd tell of it. Now, as you've got it, lying idle”—
“It happens to be just the other way, Barton,” said Gilbert, interrupting him. “I came here to-night to borrow.”