“Wha’fo’ you gwine waste yo’ two bits dat way? We could git away!”
“It was burning a hole in my pocket,” answered his white companion. “But, Amos, when you want to steal you’d better not let me know it.”
“Dat wan’t stealin’. Da’s a wild chicken.”
“I hope it is. We’ll have game for breakfast.”
“Yo’ jes’ fro’ dat two bits away,” growled Amos.
Betty had been urged ahead and Centerville was just before them. Amos had crawled into the rear seat and was mumbling to himself about the chicken and the squandered quarter. At last Morey felt a touch on his arm.
“Ef we all had dat money we could get some crackers and cheese, couldn’t we?”
“You’ll get chicken broiled on a stick if you get anything tonight. But I reckon we ought to save the chicken for tomorrow.”
“Cheese and crackers would go pow’ful well. Dey’s got cheese in dis town.”