Waldemar is silent for a while and then he says, weary-like—
“Well, somebody did.”
“I dimly remember tellin’ Big Foot and Hoodoo what we was goin’ to do,” says Dirty, sad-like. “That must ’a’ been them two that Scenery brought to jail.”
Me and Dirty gets to our feet. My feet don’t line up good, but I’m too good to lay down and quit.
“We’ll just walk,” says Dirty, sad-like; “just walk and walk until we finds the place which is farthest from Piperock, and then we’ll beg, borrow or steal some broncs and keep on goin’.”
“How about me?” wails Waldemar.
We stops and looks at him, kinda wondering-like.
“I must go back and get my film and camera before I leave,” says he, apologetic-like. “Then where shall I go?”
“Do just as yuh please,” says Dirty, “but as far as me and Ike Harper are concerned, all things bein’ equal, you can take your —— creepin’ tintypes and go plumb to ——!”
We pilgrims away in the darkness, two sufferin’ souls, holding hands that our feet may keep pointing ahead. We’re in no shape to walk and Dirty says: