“Steve’s gang from up in the hills in my township is on the way ter Independence. They’re goin’ ter raid old Sam Nickaroshinski, the Jew storekeeper, and rob ’im ter-night.”
“Nonsense, Dan, they haven’t got that low.”
“Hit’s jest like I tell ye. They’re a gang of flightin’ drunken devils. They’ll do anything. I got a man to join ’em, an’ he gimme the whole plot. Steve Hoyle don’t know nothin’ about it no more than their township leader does.”
“Did you bring your men?” John asked. “Yes, a half dozen. They ain’t but six er.”
“What’s up?”
“Hell’s afloat and the river’s a risin!”
“Well?”
“Them skunks comin’. Our fellers are lyin’ out in the woods at the spring where we met you the last time.”
John leaped to his feet with a sudden resolution.
“I’ll join you at eight o’clock to-night and we’ll give the gentlemen from the hills an unexpected reception.” He seized his hat and closed his office. As Dan turned to go he gave the low quick order: