“I don’t care if they do,” answered Dan. “If I should see ’em doin’ it, I wouldn’t lift a hand to hender ’em. That would bring Dave down from his high hoss, fur Gen’ral Gordon wouldn’t never hire him to tote the mail agin; an’ then he’d have to scratch for a livin’ the way me an’ pap does.”
“It would serve him right, for bein’ so stingy,” said Barlow.
“But the feller that goes for him had better watch out,” continued Dan, “fur Dave, he carries a double-barrel dissolver in his pocket. It shoots six times, an’ he knows how to use it.”
“I don’t reckon that would stand in the way of anybody who wanted them letters,” said Barlow, with a laugh. “If Dave should see a couple of loaded rifles lookin’ him square in the face, he wouldn’t think of his six-shooter.”
“Mebbe he wouldn’t,” said Dan. “But if I could ride that mail-route the next time Brigham’s money-letter comes in—if Dave could be tuk sick, or get lost in the woods, or something so’t I could take his place—the fellow that wanted them five thousand wouldn’t have no trouble, for I shouldn’t have no dissolver with me. But he’d have to give me half.”
This was the idea that had so suddenly suggested itself to Dan Evans—to get David out of the way for one day so that he could carry the mail, and give Barlow and his two friends a chance to secure a portion of Mr. Brigham’s money. If Barlow had jumped at the bait thus adroitly thrown out, Dan would have proposed that, after the robbery had been accomplished, they should all take to the flat-boat, push it out into the river, and let the current take it to New Orleans, where they would divide the money and separate, Dan going his way and Barlow and his companions going theirs. Dan thought it was a splendid idea, but Barlow knocked it into a cocked hat by the very next words he uttered.
“You couldn’t take your brother’s place even for a single day,” said he.
“What fur?” demanded Dan, who was greatly surprised. “Can’t I ride that thar colt of his’n as well as he kin?”
“I ’spose you can; but that ain’t the pint. You’ve never been swore in fur a mail-carrier, an’ so you would have no right to tech that mail-bag. If Dave should be tuk sick or get lost in the woods, Gen’ral Gordon would have to carry the mail himself.”
“Whoop!” yelled Dan, jumping up and knocking his heels together. “He’d be a wusser man to fool with nor Dave, fur he’s an old soldier.”