Skeeter patted Mrs. Porter on the shoulder as he started for the door.
“Mebbe they’ll only send me to the penitentiary, yuh see.”
It was only a few minutes’ work for Skeeter to hitch up the old horse and drive up to the door. He carried the three men out of the house and placed them in the wagon-box on an old quilt.
“You and Mary stay here with Mrs. Kirk,” said Skeeter to Mrs. Porter. “I’ll see that somebody comes after yuh in the mornin’.”
He turned to Mrs. Kirk and held out his hand.
“If I don’t see yuh ag’in—good luck to you and yore pal.”
“Well, we’ll sure see yuh, won’t we?” queried Mrs. Porter quickly.
“I shore hope so, but yuh can’t sometimes always tell. Mebbe I better tell you folks good-by, too.”
“Aw, ——!” blurted Mrs. Porter inelegantly and turned back into the shack, while Mary Leeds came slowly up to Skeeter and took hold of his sleeve.
“Skeeter Bill, can’t I go with you?”