“Gosh!” said the young Mr. Case, but there was that in his facial expression which brought to The Oskaloosa Kid a sudden regret that he had thus rashly confided in a stranger.
“Say,” said The Kid, after a moment's strained silence. “Don't tell anyone, will you? If you'll promise I'll give you a dollar,” and he hunted through his roll of bills for one of that lowly denomination.
“All right,” agreed the Case boy. “I won't say a word—where's the dollar?”
The youth drew a bill from his roll and handed it to the other. “If you tell,” he whispered, and he bent close toward the other's ear and spoke in a menacing tone; “If you tell, I'll kill you!”
“Gosh!” said Willie Case.
At this moment Case pere and mere emerged from the kitchen loaded with provender. “Here's enough an' more'n enough, I reckon,” said Jeb Case. “We got eggs, butter, bread, bacon, milk, an' a mite o' garden sass.”
“But we ain't goin' to charge you nothin' fer the garden sass,” interjected Mrs. Case.
“That's awfully nice of you,” replied The Kid. “How much do I owe you for the rest of it?”
“Oh,” said Jeb Case, rubbing his chin, eyeing the big roll of bills and wondering just the limit he might raise to, “I reckon 'bout four dollars an' six bits.”
The Oskaloosa Kid peeled a five dollar bill from his roll and proffered it to the farmer. “I'm ever so much obliged,” he said, “and you needn't mind about any change. I thank you so much.” With which he took the several packages and pails and turned toward the road.