"Winded, Abel? Well, there's no haste. What did that boat put in for?"
"How'n tarnation do I know?" growled the first. "Wa'n't none o' our boys on her."
"So much the better for her, then," laughed the second. "It's odd we didn't meet Tobin, Abel!"
A grunt replied. Norton glanced at his friend, his brown eyes aflame.
"Duval," he murmured under his breath. "Who's the other? Abel Grigg?"
Audubon nodded quickly, and his face was set in eager surmise.
"Is Tobin the man we—we met this morning, Norton?"
Norton pursed up his lips in a silent whistle, staring. Was the thing possible after all? He had vaguely suspected it before, yet it seemed incredible. He replied to the question with a mute shake of the head, as Duval's voice continued. It seemed that Duval and Grigg were pausing for breath on the trail opposite the covert.
"Listen here, Abel: this thing has to be finished up sharp, or that fool is apt to blunder on something that'll bring the Regulators down on us." Duval's voice was earnest, cold, menacing. "He got away from the boys at Louisville, and unless Tobin has met him and is attending to him, you'll have to do the work. I'll be busy in court at Henderson for a week to come."
"I'll 'tend to him," growled Grigg. "How 'bout layin' fer that cargo comin' down nex' month in Cap. Brookfield's hoss-boat? We could ship a couple o' the boys on her an' do the business by them islands at the Wabash."