“Exactly,” said Sautee. “Which way you figure on going up?” he asked curiously.
“Don’t know much about the trails,” Rathburn answered. “An’ it mightn’t attract suspicion if I just struck right out on the road.”
Sautee shrugged. “Well, that’s up to you,” he said. “Keep your eye peeled. I don’t think any one knows I drew that money from the bank, but I didn’t think any one knew I stuck that package under the truck driver’s seat, either.”
He turned toward the door.
“There’s just one other little matter,” said Rathburn softly. “You see nobody knows anything about this deal but you an’ me. Maybe it would be best for my own protection that you scribbled something on a piece of paper to show what our arrangement is.”
Sautee scowled again, hesitated, then smiled. He drew an envelope from a pocket, extracted its contents, tore it open at each end, and wrote on the blank side:
Due Rathburn five hundred dollars when he has delivered package intrusted to him by me at the Dixie Queen mine office.
George Sautee.
Rathburn nodded in satisfaction as he took the slip of paper and tucked it into his shirt pocket. The wording of the note was a bit complicated, but it bore Sautee’s signature. It was at least evidence that there had been an agreement.
“Everything set?” asked Sautee.