"I got a couple of fellows hanging round my place," said Joe, "fellows as'll stop at nothing—a white man and a breed. I'm going to take them and follow him back to the girl. I don't know where he's left her. Then,"—Joe rubbed his greasy hands together—"the three of us'll manage to give young medico a shivaree, I guess!"
Stack, pursing up his lips, thought quickly. The situation was becoming complicated. It was clear Joe knew nothing about any gold. Perhaps he, Stack, could keep that knowledge to himself, and still play off Joe against Ralph. The size of Joe's party did not please Stack; still it offered him the only chance he was likely to get of following Ralph into the country. That was all important.
"Take me along with you," said Stack breathlessly.
"Eh?" said Joe, partly sobered. He looked the little man up and down and laughed brutally. "What good would you be?"
"I ain't much on fighting," said Stack, "but I can advise you good. I got a head on me. I got legal training."
"To hell with legal training!" said Joe. He looked at Stack cunningly. "You'll have to pay your way," he said. "I don't carry no passengers gratis."
"How much?" asked Stack anxiously.
Joe fixed him with eyes like pin-heads "Oh, well, make it a round sum for the trip," he said. "Make it two hundred and fifty."
Stack swallowed hard. "All right," he said.
Joe looked disconcerted. "Maybe it'll be more," he growled.