"Yes," said Donoghue, "a good bit like that, too. Well, but on this trail we can't go alone. It's too all-fired far and too all-fired lonely."
His gaze wandered to the mountains behind the town and Apache took up the discourse.
"You see the idea? We want a companion to help us to keep the peace. Foolish—eh? Well, I don't blame you if you don't quite understand. You 're new here. You 've never been in the mountains, day in day out, with a man whose soul an altogether different god or devil made; with a man that you fervently hope, if there's any waking up after the last kick here, you won't find in your happy hunting-ground beyond. You won't have to come in between and hold us apart, you know. The mere presence of a third party is enough."
He looked on me keenly a space and added:
"Somehow I think that you will do more than keep off the bickering spirit. I think you 'll establish amicable relations."
It was curious to observe how the illiterate Donoghue took his partner's speech so much for granted.
"What's amicable?" he said.
"Friendly," said Apache Kid.
"Amicable, friendly," said Donoghue, thoughtfully. "Good word, amicable."
"The trip would be worth a couple of hundred dollars to you," said Apache, with his eyes on mine. "And if we happened to be out over two months, at the rate of a hundred a month for the time beyond."