“P-probably take clost to a thousand dollars,” says Mark, mentioning a thousand dollars as if all he had to do was to reach into his pants pocket and haul it out.
“The sheriffs say they’re goin’ to take that machinery out of here in twenty-four hours.”
“Twenty-four hours, eh? Well, that’s quite a while, hain’t it? A f-feller kin do quite a lot in twenty-four hours if he hustles.... Now, Silas, you sit still on that log and enjoy bein’ m-m-miserable. That’s all I ask of you. Don’t do anythin’, because if you do you’ll git us into more t-trouble. Jest sit and think. Don’t talk to nobody and don’t sign anythin’ and don’t do anythin’. Us fellers’ll hustle around.”
“All right,” says Silas, “but it hain’t no use.”
“If you git p-pleasure out of thinkin’ so,” says Mark, “why, go ahead. I feel d-different.”
Mark started to walk off, and we followed him.
“Where you goin’?” says I.
“See a lawyer,” says he.
“What for?”
“Find out about them f-fire-escapes.”