Involuntarily, the “Kid” shivered.
“Hell of a country!” he mumbled. “Where you reckon he’s headed for?”
“Wait and see!” snapped Monte. “Hello!—he’s turning in! That must be a private road! Stop here!”
He slid from the seat and stood swinging his feet alternately, to restore the circulation in them. Then he jerked his head into the darkness.
“Come on, Kid! We got to see what he’s up to!”
The “Kid” clambered out, and the two crooks struck silently up the road. They reached the turn and found, as they had guessed, that they were at the entrance to a private road.
Instinctively, the two men paused and stared in through the trees. Night pressed thick and damp about them. A wind from the southeast brought to them the smell of the marshes, and once the booming whistle of a steamer sounded. In a lull of the wind, the gulls were screaming.
“This ain’t in my line, Chief!” snarled the “Kid,” glaring into the darkness. “I can bump a guy off under the city lights as nifty as the next one, but this nature stuff never did set right on my stomach. Let’s go back!”
“You go back if you want to!” Monte said menacingly. “But if you do, don’t come sniveling around me later on. I’m going in there!”
He struck off along the winding road, and in a moment the “Kid” fell into step at his side.