His hand flickered as Henderson hesitated.
“Not very long,” said the old man hastily. “’Bout five-ten minutes, I guess. He’s got to burrer down into the snow, that’s all.”
The fat man walked about the room restlessly, glancing here and there. The candle sputtered. The graying coals of the fire settled with a whispered crunch.
“What’ll ye do wid dese fellers, Cap?” inquired Tony after a while.
“Just wait till we’ve had some food, an’ we’ll decide,” answered the fat man. “Say, though, it’s lucky you knew about this place, Tony. I’m near starved.”
He grinned as he continued:
“If you birds hadn’t been fightin’ I dunno as we’d ’a’ found you at that, in all this ⸺ snow. Too dark to see much, but Tony heard a thumpin’ an’ crashin’ along the bank o’ the river somewhere, so we breezed over. We come away in a bit of a hurry from where we last was, an’ we’re in a bit of a hurry to git where we’re goin’, up to Tony’s place, so this makes it pretty nice. Where the ⸺’s that other guy? I’m gittin’ cold.”
Tony loosed his revolver in its holster and started silently for the door, but just then Nick’s voice was heard, asking them to open up. He stamped shivering into the room, covered with snow from head to heels, carrying a great load of logs.
“Easy does it, young feller,” said the fat man, watching like a cat as Hartley staggered to the hearth.
Tony and Perry closed in behind him, ready for anything.