"Some folks," put in Tom, "moutn't even hev warned ye."
"Thet's jest ther p'int," panted the boy. "He told ther revenuer fust-off an' then warned me atterwards. Ef hit hedn't of been fer a right gay piece of luck, ther raiders would of come afore I got ther still hid away—an' I'd be sulterin' in jail right now. I've done swore ter kill him."
"An' ther gal, son," prompted Tom gently.
The black face went even blacker.
"I reckon," he said savagely, "she don't aim ter wait fer me no longer. I owes thet ter Boone Wellver, too."
"An' so ye're willin'—?"
"Plumb willin' an' anxious! I've done held my counsel. He don't suspicion how I feels.... I knows every path an' by-way over thar. I knows every step he takes when he's at home. Thar hain't no fashion I could fail."
"An' ye knows, too, how ter keep yore mouth shut?"
"I hain't nuver told nuthin' yit."
The two conspirators looked at each other and nodded. Here was an agent who could move without suspicion and act out of his own ardour of hatred. Decidedly he was a discovery.