“You’ve never thought it wise to put me up in these affairs of yours,” said Scanlon, “so I’ll now have nothing to say in them. However, that’ll not stop me from doing any little thing that I think needs doing.”
Campe put a trembling hand upon the big man’s arm.
“Bat,” said he, quietly enough, “no man was ever more bedeviled than I am, and I’ve not been exactly frank with you——”
But Scanlon stopped him.
“Some time we’ll both be in a humour for a talk,” said he, “and we’ll save the matter till then. Just now there is another bit of business to work off. Get hold of it by the legs.”
Together they took up the heavy body and carried it down the hall to Scanlon’s room, where they laid it upon the floor.
“He looks,” observed Bat, “as if he’d got his last jolt; but he’ll live to get many more, so don’t worry. What I want you to do, as a kind of addition to your burden bearing, is to sit here and watch him. Got your gun?”
“Yes,” said young Campe.
“If he comes to, advise him to keep still; if he refuses, poke the barrel in his face. If he insists, hammer him over the head until he grows peaceful.”
“But,” said Campe, “what are you going to do?”