“Me know where Louie pitch teppee, burn him out.”
“By thunder, that’s the idea!” ejaculated the owner of the Double Cross, unable to restrain his delight at the suggestion. “Want any help from any of us?”
“Uhuh! Me take Deadshot and Ki Yi. Palefaces stay here till we come back.”
“Don’t worry about our going away,” smiled Hawks, “and we’ll keep all-fired quiet, too.”
“Good. We no be back till burn Louie out. Palefaces stay on edge of swamp. When see um fire, watch out. This only trail to Louie’s teppee. Palefaces stay here and when Louie come, shoot um. We stay on other side so shoot Louie if run that way.”
“But how about the North and South? Won’t you need some guards for them?” queried Bowser.
“Naw. No trail to South or North. Mudhole too bad, ’cept near catacombs.”
“Then hurry up and be going,” exclaimed Hawks. “This scheme looks like a rip-snorter to me. You won’t be gone five minutes before I’ll have the others in positions from which they can sweep the trail.”
“Huh! Palefaces watch out no shoot too soon. Louie hear shot, he dodge.”
“Oh, I reckon palefaces aren’t such fools they can’t tell a man front a shadow,” retorted Bowser.