“Yeah, then we gotta use our beans an’ scram. But it’s got me, kid; we saw in that book how much money he expects from us. How can he get it when we’re dead?”
“I dunno. We ain’t gonna hash this mystery business all over again—I’m too blamed tired. All I’m sure of is that Devlin gets money for us an’ sometime or other he’ll wanta kill us for some reason. Timmy said it was a trick about him shippin’ us west, so that’s the night he does it—always at night, you know that. When that night comes for us, we just gotta outguess him.”
“An’ it’s about a month from the time he takes us to a sawbones,” Nickie said mournfully. “Well, if we can’t do nothin’ else about it, I’m gonna pull myself together. But one thing, I hope he takes us together—see. If you go first or I go—holy smoke, I can’t stand it if he takes us separate. I’m scared I’ll lose my nerve—you know it?”
“Forget it, Nick. Whatever he does, be foxy an’ forget about me n’ I’ll do the same. Gee whiz, from what Timmy said he don’t tie you down—if he did that we wouldn’t have a chance. Now quit worryin’, an’ let’s get down before he comes. I’ll hide the things again an’ maybe he’ll be out a lotta the time an’ we can try it again. If we keep pullin’ on them bars we’ll weaken ’em after awhile even if it’s weeks.”
“Yeah, weeks too late.”
Nickie’s spirits rose considerably a little later. Devlin had come in with a pail of chicken fricassee and an apple pie, announcing that he had stopped at a lunch wagon to give the boys a treat. Skippy almost decided that all his suspicions had been unfounded.
The problem was a tormenting one. Could anyone be so cruel? Devlin’s face, always a study, was no nearer revealing what lay behind his grave features than on the day they had first seen him. Just now he was as much absorbed in the chicken fricassee as the boys were.
A full stomach does much toward comforting the harassed human being, and Nickie was no exception to the rule. The keen look of defiance came back into his eyes and he settled back in his chair, quite forgetting for the time that the man who had so generously fed him, was the man whom he had expected would kill him.
Skippy’s full stomach, while giving him much comfort, did not disarm him completely. He sat back in his chair, noting Nickie’s peaceful face beside him and Devlin’s mask-like countenance across the table. Someone had to be ready and on guard—Devlin had a price for everything—even chicken fricassee.
It came sooner than he expected. Devlin was finishing his pie and washing it down with great draughts of coffee. “Well, boys,” he said, genially, “I suppose both of you swim, eh?”