“I made it—an’ it ain’t the first I’ve made by a blame sight.”
“All right,” said Bassett, looking at his companion with something like respect. “Come on, then,” and he rose and buttoned his coat.
But Hummel sat still. His eyes were burning with a strange fire, and Bassett looked at him with some uneasiness. He had never been quite sure of Hummel; he regarded him a good deal as he might have done a deadly snake which he was keeping in captivity to use against an enemy, but always with the feeling that the snake might at any time turn against himself.
“Well,” he added, after a moment, “ain’t you comin’?”
“Not just yet,” answered Hummel, calmly. “I want t’ talk t’ you a little, first. Set down.”
“We’d better be gittin’ along,” Bassett protested, but he sat down nevertheless.
“Now,” proceeded Hummel, deliberately, “you know after we pull this thing off, I’ll want to git away, an’ git away quick. This won’t be a healthy neighbourhood fer either of us. I don’t want t’ have t’ wait around fer you, an’ mebbe miss you, at that.”
“Nobody wants you to,” broke in Bassett impatiently. “What is it you’re drivin’ at, anyway?”
“I’m drivin’ at this,” said Hummel. “I want my pay here an’ now.”
Bassett sat for a moment contemplating him with hostile eyes.