I’d ’a’ sooner he hadn’t put it into words—it did look rather raw when he stood it up before us naked. “I don’t mean nothin’ in particular, The,” sez I. “You and I are different, and what I could do without feelin’—”
“That’s all right,” he broke in. “The’ ain’t any need to treat me like an infant baby. Come right out with it—What you want me to do is to play spy, ain’t it?”
“That’s the only way I can see to help the Friar,” sez I; “but he wouldn’t want you to do anything for him you didn’t feel was right.”
“I know, I know,” he sez, lookin’ down at his hands. “Ty Jones is as mean as a snake, and I don’t deny it; but he’s been square with me, and once he saved my life. Then again, the Friar has been square with every one, and if he hadn’t nursed me night and day, Horace wouldn’t have had a chance to save my life. If Horace had killed me it would have spoiled his life; so that the whole thing is held together in a tangle. I’m willin’ to cash in my life for the Friar—it ain’t that—but I do hate to turn again’ Ty Jones underhanded.”
“Better just forget I mentioned it,” sez I.
“No,” sez Promotheus, “I intend to lay the plan before Horace, and let him settle on it.”
“That’s a good scheme, that’s the best way out of it,” sez ol’ Tank, and I joined in with him.
We sat there on the bank a long time, thinkin’ the thing over, and finally just before supper, Horace hove in sight and started to josh us; but when he saw how sober we were, he settled down, and asked us what was up.
“Horace,” sez The, “what would you think of my takin’ on with Ty Jones, and playin’ the spy on him?”
“That would be madness!” exclaimed Horace. “He’d see through it and kill you first pop. I don’t know though—you might fix up a tale—but then it would be too infernal risky. Nope, don’t you try it.”