“What was he a-doin' back there in the house after he sent you out?”
“I don't know.”
“Not so loud—whisper. Didn't you hear him say anything?”
“He asked for a pen and paper.”
“Must 'a' wrote a letter. There it is—look there—sticking out of his pocket. Wait a minute.”
“Don't you try to take it. He 'll shoot you.”
“Oh, damn him! I ain't afraid of two Joe McGlorys. Lemme go.” He crept over, drew out the letter skilfully, and returned. “I don't like to strike a match here—”
“Oh, no, no—don't!”
“Can you crawl off a little ways—behind them bushes?”
“I guess so; I 'll try.” He helped her. “S-sh—careful.”