“I think,” Nicky whispered, “they got a small job for us guys to do—see? Ain’t we all done a job or two for ourselves, hah? So we can do a job for them if they ast us—see?” He turned to Skippy suddenly and asked, “Ain’t that right, kid?”
“Sure!” Skippy answered, conscious of an inward tremor as he said it.
“That’s the kind of talk I like to hear, boys!” came a sepulchral voice from the doorway where Barker stood watching them. He was grave and unsmiling, and save for a certain steely glint in his staring eyes, his face looked not unlike a cold, clay mask.
Nickie Fallon broke the tension with a forced, husky laugh. “You’n Frost give us a break, Mr. Barker,” he said nervously, “we’d be short skates if we didn’t try an’ square it.”
“Of course,” Barker agreed without any enthusiasm.
A silence ensued that to Skippy was tense. Barker continued to stand there and stare, and the boys sat rigid in their chairs until the welcome sound of footsteps was heard coming down the stairs and along the hall.
Frost strode into the big room and in his wake was a tall, fair-haired boy of about sixteen whose appearance was somewhat disheveled. He had a wild expression in his light blue eyes and at sight of Barker a shadow crossed his face.
“I been most crazy barred up in that dark hole since daylight!” he cried. “I thought you’n Frost would never come! Honest, I’ll go nuts if I ain’t let out soon. Over a month an’ two kids’re gone an’ I’m still here! Barker, it’s givin’ me the creeps—honest! It’s worse’n if I stayed in the pen up in Al....”
“I’ve arranged for you to go tomorrow night, Timmy,” Barker interposed hastily. And, nodding his long head toward the new arrivals, he added: “You’ll have these boys to keep you company till then.”
Timmy wheeled about, obviously unaware of the boys’ presence in the room until that moment. He drew a hand across his forehead as if dazed. Then suddenly, in a trembling voice, he said, “More!”