“He mayn’t, however!”
“If not, he shan’t now. I’ll take care he don’t have the chance.”
“How are ye to help it? You don’t intend killin’ him?”
“Not yet; thar’s a golden egg in that goose. His silence can be secured without resortin’ to that. He must be kep’ separate from the others.”
“But some o’ them ’ll have to look after him, or he may cut away from us.”
“Fernandez will do that. I can trust him with Clancy’s name,—with anything. Slip out, Luke, and see if they’ve got it among them. If they have, it’s all up, so far as that game goes. If not, I’ll fix things safe, so that when we’ve spent Monsheer Dupré’s silver, we may still draw cheques on the bank of San Antonio, signed Ephraim Darke.”
Chisholm obeying, brings back a satisfactory report.
“The boys know nothin’ o’ Clancy’s name, nor how we disposed o’ him. In coorse, Watts, Stocker, an’ Driscoll, haint sayed anything ’bout that. They’ve told the rest we let him go, not carin’ to keep him; and that you only wanted the yellow fellow to wait on ye.”
“Good! Go again, and fetch Fernandez here.”
Chisholm once more turns out of the tent, soon after re-entering it, the half-blood behind him.