He said, “I could take you on right here. We could fix up a place down in the basement, and I could give you a little instruction every day, and—”
“No. I’m run down. I want to get out where I can be completely away from everyone. We’ll go somewhere and put up a little training camp — some place up around Reno, perhaps. There’d be a girl with us.”
“A girl!”
“Uh huh.”
He blinked at me for a minute, then grinned in snaggle-toothed appreciation. “When do we start?”
“Right away,” I said. “I’m going to pick up a secondhand car that will hold the outfit. We’ll camp along the road, and take it easy. It won’t cost us much.”
“Say,” he said, “I’m a swell camper. That’s one of the things I’m good at, camp cooking.”
I said, “Get your things together. We’ve got to get started in a hurry. I have an idea the cops may try to stop us if we don’t get the jump on them.”
For a moment, there was a flicker of fear in his eyes, then he said, “You can’t get started too quick to suit me, buddy. I got some gloves, but they’re pretty light. We’ll want to get a heavier set for training. And we’re goin’ to need a punchin’-bag. I sold mine when I left Los Angeles, but we can get a good one for—”
“We’ll pick it up in Reno,” I told him.