At this unexpected reply I forgot for the moment the awkwardness of our present situation, and the fact that we did not wish to betray our knowledge of the identity of the enemy, and began to laugh, when Jack, by a monitory pinch, brought me up again with a jerk.
“What are you laughing at?” asked Squeaky, scowling.
I became preternaturally solemn in an instant; and by good fortune I thought of a reasonable reply to the question.
“Why,” said I, “I was only thinking that your partner seemed to understand pretty well for a man born deaf.”
“Yes, he does that,” assented Squeaky, in such a matter-of-fact manner that I nearly laughed again.
“Well,” he continued, “we must get to business, because we won’t have any time to-morrow morning. Now, just listen to me, and you,”—pointing at Jack,—“you just pay attention; because the lives of these two boys depends on you. Just you keep that in mind, now. This is no laughing matter, you’ll find, young fellow,” with a grim nod at me. “I’m going to tell you what me and my pardner have been hunting you for; and mind you, I mean what I say.”
Squeaky hitched his bucket a trifle nearer, and shaking his forefinger at Jack he thus addressed him, slowly and with much emphasis:
“Attend to me, now,” said he. “To-morrow morning you’ll take your horse, and you’ll ride to Bozeman—you can make it by night if you start early—and as soon as you get to Bozeman you’ll telegraph to the fathers of these boys to send you ten thousand dollars.”
He paused for a moment to let his words take full effect, and then went on:
“As soon as you get the money you’ll ride back here with it alone, and you’ll go to the top of that flat-topped rock up there on the end of that rise—See it? You may stand up if you can’t.”