As soon as Horace had finished readin’; we all sat around in complete silence, gawkin’ at each other. “Things has finally come to a head,” sez Spider Kelley, solemnly.
“There now, that’s the Christian religion!” exclaimed Horace. “The Christian religion is founded on self-sacrifice and martyrdom, and all those who get it bad enough spend the bulk o’ their time on the lookout to be martyrs and sacrifice theirselves for something—and they don’t care much what for. Look at the crusades—the flower o’ Europe was lured into the desert and dumped there like worn-out junk, even children were offered up in this sacrifice. Nothing but sentimentality, rank sentimentality. Now, when the ancient Greeks—”
“The thing for us, is to decide on what we’re to do next, not what the ancient Greeks did a few thousand years before we were born,” sez I. “There is no use hidin’ any longer. The strongest card we have up our sleeve is the fake reputation of Dinky Bradford, and what we must do is to make up the best plan to play it.”
“Why do you say fake reputation?” demanded Horace.
“Well, you’re not a government agent, are ya?” I asked.
“No,” sez he; “but at the same time—”
“I didn’t say ’at you was a fake, Horace,” sez I in a soothin’ voice. “I merely intimated that the things Ty Jones most fears about you are the things which were not so.”
“I see what you mean,” sez Horace, “and it’s all right. What’s your plan?”
“Well, as soon as we are sure ’at the Friar has reached Ty’s,” sez I, “we’ll send Ty word to deliver him back at once, and to appoint a meetin’ place to explain things to us. Not make any threats nor bluffs nor nothin’. Just a plain, simple statement of what we want done, and sign your name to it.”
“I think it would be better to tell him we had his place surrounded,” said Horace.