"You can't shake the game that easy, Pete. I quit when we started for Sanborn—and what did we run into? And you bein' with me gits you in bad, likewise."
"If that's what's botherin' you, why, I'll take the chanct, and stick," said Pete.
"Nope. Right now I'm lookin' out for myself, and nobody else. If they kin hang that last deal onto me—and you know what I mean—why, your Uncle Ed'll sure have to take the long trail. And I aim to keep a-ridin' in the sun for a spell yet. We're gittin' clost to town. Mebby we can drop off easy and sift out of sight without any fuss. Then we got a chanct to change our clothes and git rid of that dough. They'll be lightin' the lamps right soon. Them saddle-bags buckled?"
"They sure are."
"All right. When you hear 'em whistle for the crossin' jest stand up and drop 'em out of the window. Nobody kin see you from behind. Then we mosey into the baggage-car and tell the agent in there we're lookin' for our war-bag. Bein' express messenger, he packs a gun. You want to step lively for that side door."
"I git you, Ed. What's all them lights out there?"
"That's the town. She's jest whistlin' for the crossin'. Dump your freight—easy, like you was lookin' out at the scenery. That's her. Now, stretch your arms and kind of look round. The conductor is out on the back platform. Come on!"
The express messenger was leaning from the side door in the act of swinging a parcel to the local agent at the Grossing, when Brevoort and Pete entered. With his back toward them and absorbed in launching the package he did not see them as they angled quickly to the other door and dropped off into the night. The train slowed almost to a stop, the grinding brakes eased, and it drew away, leaving Pete and Brevoort squatting behind a row of empty oil barrels along the track.