“You know Oreville?”
“Yes, massa.”
“Go over there and take this letter with you. Ask for Jefferson Pettigrew, and mind you don’t tell him where we live. Only if he asks about me and my pal say we are desperate men, have each killed a round dozen of fellows that stood in our way and will stick at nothing.”
“All right, massa,” said Caesar with an appreciative grin. “How shall I go, massa?”
“You can take the kid’s horse. Ride to within a mile of Oreville, then tether the horse where he won’t easily be found, and walk over to the mines. Do you understand?”
“Yes, massa.”
“He won’t probably give you any money, but he may give you a letter. Bring it safely to me.”
Caesar nodded and vanished.
For an hour the two men smoked their pipes and chatted. Then they rose, and the elder said: “We are going out, kid, for a couple of hours. Are you afraid to stay alone?”
“Why should I be?”