"A thousand, thousand times!"
"How come?"
"I can't tell you."
"I kind of wish," said Sinclair thoughtfully, "that I'd kept my grip a mite longer."
"No, no!"
"You don't wish him dead?"
Jig shuddered.
"You plumb beat me, partner. And now you want to come along with me?" Sinclair grinned. "An outlaw's life ain't what it's cracked up to be, son. You'd last about a day doing what I have to do."
"You'll find," said the schoolteacher eagerly, "that I can stand it amazingly well. I'll—I'll be far, far stronger than you expect!"
"Somehow I kind of believe it. But it's for your own fool sake, son, that I don't want you along."