"Hey, take it easy," Jake growled. "Don't get yourself in an uproar. We got other things to think about."
"Tell me," Horner said grimly.
Jake looked at him. Jake had the widest shoulders Horner had ever seen. Probably, Jake was incredibly strong. But his shoulders shrugged and he said, "When you get like that, Lonnie, I guess you got to have your way." He added one word. He added, "Murder."
"Murder," Horner said slowly.
"Hell, yeah, murder. Now snap out of it, will you?"
"Murder. Why didn't they electrocute me?"
"You was young at the time. Twenty, I think. Hey, what's the matter with you? Will you leave go the shirt so I can go down there?"
"Yes," Horner said. "Yes, of course." There was more on the river of memory now. There was Jake. And Lonnie Overman—Horner. And a man named Forbish, another convict. For eighteen months they had been digging.
Digging.