"I guess they're huntin' for us by now," Sam said huskily. "I don't—I don't like it much down here, Penrod."
Penrod's hoarse whisper came from the profound gloom:
"Well, who ever said you did?"
"Well——" Sam paused; then he said plaintively, "I wish we'd never seen that dern ole horse."
"It was every bit his fault," said Penrod. "We didn't do anything. If he hadn't come stickin' his ole head in our stable, it'd never happened at all. Ole fool!" He rose. "I'm goin' to get out of here; I guess I've stood about enough for one day."
"Where—where you goin', Penrod? You aren't goin' home, are you?"
"No; I'm not! What do you take me for? You think I'm crazy?"
"Well, where can you go?"
How far Penrod's desperation actually would have led him is doubtful, but he made this statement:
"I don't know where you're goin', but I'm goin' to walk straight out in the country till I come to a farm-house and say my name's George and live there!"