“Yeh, when we get out, then what?”
“To the nearest jail, where you belong,” Jim told him.
“Well, I’m telling you now, I’m not going to no jail,” Mills cried.
“Aw shut up,” Lang ordered.
“Shut up yourself,” Mills retorted. “I aint done nothing to go to jail for—”
“No, well you’ve done as much as I have—”
“You’re a liar.” Mills fist shot out and he struck his companion a resounding crack on the side of the face.
Lang’s foot went up hard, caught the fellow in the stomach with such force that Mills doubled up like a jackknife, screamed with pain, and his feet slipped so that he slid across the rock.
“Catch him, Lang,” Jim shouted quickly.
“He’ll take you with him,” warned Bob.