“Den we'll wait twell dey turns de lights out; dey's aimin' to turn 'em out in a mighty few minutes to welcome in de New Yeah in de darkness. An' jes' w'en dey does dat I'll open de do', an' you step out on de flatform an' say: 'Heah I is!' At dat I'll switch on de lights right quick; an' den—don't you see?—you'll be standin' right dere in full view, up on de flatform, whar you kin tell dat preacher whut you thinks of him.”
“I ain't 'lowin' to tell him nothin'—I 'low to jes' haul off an' bust him one, an' peel his nappy haid fur him!” avowed Red Hoss.
“Suit yo'se'f about dat,” conceded Jeff; “but how do de res' of de plan seem to strike you?”
“You's my friend—seem lak you's de onlies' friend whut I got lef in de world,” stated Red Hoss. “An' so I does lak you says—up to a suttin point; but frum den on I's gwine cut loose an' be rough. Come on, Jeff! Show me de way! Dat's all I axes you—jes' show me de way!”
“Hole still a minute—we got time yit to spare,” counselled Jeff; on top of his first inspiration a second one had burgeoned forth. “Fust off, lemme wipe de rain an' de cinders offen you—yore face is powerful dirty.”
Obediently Red Hoss offered his features for renovation. From his pocket Jeff hauled out a handkerchief; hauled something else out, too—only Red Hoss didn't see that. He made pretense of wrapping a forefinger in the handkerchief; but it was not a finger tip that carefully encircled both of Red Hoss' blinking eyes, pressing firmly against the moist black flesh, and then outlined his nose and passed in rings round his mouth, above the upper lip and below the lower one.
“Hole up!” protested Red Hoss. “You's rubbin' too hard. Yore finger nail hurts me.”
“Stay still!” urged Jeff. “I's 'most th'ough.” Craftily, with a fresh match, he touched the outer and the inner corners of Red Hoss' eyes and the lobes of his ears; and then he drew off, almost appalled himself by the ghastliness of his own handicraft, as revealed in the dark.
“Come along, Red Hoss. An' don't furgit whut you's goin' to say w'en I opens de hall do' fur you.”
“Ain't furgittin' nothin',” promised Red Hoss.