At the sound of a hasty light step Dixie looked up into the haggard gray face of the Kid.
“What was it?” he whispered, glancing fearfully behind him. “Wha'd he say to you?”
She dropped her eyes; turned away.
“Quick! Tell me, or by God, I'll—”
She threw up a frail white hand.
“Not now, Jim!”
“When?”
“He'll have to sleep. There's work ahead.”
“If you think I can sleep—”
“I can't either, Jim. It's dreadful. But I'm going to tell you everything. You have a right to know. Wait till we're past the steamer. We'd better get below now anyhow. We mustn't be seen. If we aren't, they'll never suspect this junk. Then make sure he's asleep and come up here. I'll be waiting.”