“Do you know what the deal is, Sam?”
“Sure!”
“Is it dis—is it”—he paused for a word that would convey his meaning and yet not offend—“is it—dangerous, Sam?”
“Sure!” admitted Sam solemnly as though it hurt him to pain his friend.
“Do you mean it will make more hiding for him?”
“Sure!” emphatically grave.
“I wish he hadn’t gone!” There was sharp pain in Michael’s voice.
“I wisht so too!’” said Sam with a queer little choke to his voice, “Mebbe ’twon’t come off after all. Mebbe it’ll git blocked. Mebbe he’ll come back.”
The anxiety in Sam’s tone touched Michael, but another thought had struck him hard.
“Sam,” said he plucking at the others sleeve in the darkness, “Sam, tell me, what was Buck doing—before he went away. Was it all straight? Was he in the same business with you?”