‘Here, have some of this,’ Baird said, offering him the bottle.
Rico took a long drink. The spirit helped him a little, but he still couldn’t control his trembling.
‘Think we’l get out of this?’ he asked suddenly.
‘Yeah,’ Baird said, ‘I guess so. They won’t waste too much time here. They’ve got fifty convicts to round up.’
He made himself as comfortable as he could on a blanket and took another drink.
‘Wish I could smoke,’ he said, half to himself, ‘but the dogs might smell it.’ He glanced at Hater. ‘Is he okay?’
Rico could see Hater’s thin chest moving as he breathed.
‘He’s stil breathing.’
‘That’s something,’ Baird said, and grinned sourly. ‘He must have a skul like granite.’
‘He’s crazy,’ Rico said uneasily. ‘There’s something about his face…’