“How do you figger it?” asked Shorty turning a ghastly face toward Link in the plaided darkness of the flash light.
“Pat!” said Link laconically.
“Pat?”
“Pat. He's yella! I told Sam, but he would have him! I ain't sure but Sam's yella! I think I'm about done with this outfit!”
“But Pat? What would he do it for?”
“Goin to run the whole game hisself, perhaps, or then again he might be in with Sam, so they won't have to divvy up. He could say we hadn't kept out contrac' you know, runnin' away like that.”
“We ain't to blame. How'd we know it want the police? We had a mighty close shave over that state line this A.M.”
“Well, that's what he could say, an' refuse to divvy up. But b'lieve me, Shorty! Nobody's goin' to do me dirty like that! Somebody's been doing us dirty, you and me, and it's good and right we beat 'em to it.”
“Yes, but how ya goin' to do it?”
“I ain't sure yet, but I'm goin' to do it. The first thing, Shorty, is fer us to get outta here mighty good an' quick. Ef anybody's watchin' round, we better not be here. We'll fade away. See?”