“You needn’t come back to Jones county,” said Smith, who began to fear that he had run against a snag when he least expected it. “I am not coming back. I am going over to the rebels.”
“Well, there! That’s just what I expected you to do. Here you promise to support this government, and then go back on it the first chance you get!”
“You say you won’t meet the rebels,” retorted Smith.
“I know it; but I didn’t say I was going over to them. Good land! You can get somebody else to help you,” said Coleman, rising to his feet. “That’s a little too dangerous a piece of business for me. If that’s all you wanted to say I’ll go back.”
“Well, here, hold on a minute,” exclaimed Smith, who saw that it would not do to permit Coleman to go back among his friends feeling as he did now. “There is all of twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars in that will, and Leon knows where it is.”
“Let him keep it. That’s what I say.”
“Now, suppose, instead of hanging him,” continued Smith, paying no heed to the interruption, “we will just make believe to hang him—pull him up until he sees stars and then pull him down again. We could do that.”
“No, we couldn’t. Leon’s eyes would be unbandaged, and he could easy see who pulled him up. I tell you you had better get somebody else.”
“Well, I supposed you were willing to work hard for a thousand dollars,” said Smith, in disgust. “But you are willing to live along just as you are now, without any thought for the morrow. Thank goodness, there are plenty of men in this party who will help me.”
“Then you had better get one of them.”