“Captain, you're the greatest fellow in America! Inside of a week men who have never been within five hundred miles of you will be asking each other who John Murrell is!”
Murrell had expected to part with Hues then and there and for all time, but Hues possessed qualities which might still be of use to him.
“What do you expect to do for yourself?” he demanded. The other laughed shortly.
“Captain, I'm going to get rich while I have the chance. Ain't that what we are all after?”
“How?” inquired Murrell quietly. Hues shifted his seat.
“I'm sensitive about calling things by their short names;” he gave way to easy laughter; “but if you've got anything special you're saving for yourself, I'm free to say I'd rather take chances with you than with another,” he finished carelessly.
“Hues, you must start back across Tennessee. Make it Sunday at midnight—that's three days off.” Unconsciously his voice sank to a whisper.
“Sunday at midnight,” repeated Hues slowly.
“When you have passed the word into middle Tennessee, turn south and make the best of your way to New Orleans. Don't stop for anything—push through as fast as you can. You'll find me there. I've a notion you and I will quit the country together.”
“Quit the country! Why, Captain, who's talking of quitting the country?”