“I am,” says Hashknife. “He’s too good to live with Willer Crickers.”
“He, he, he,” cackles Sol Vane. “He, he, he.”
“Sol Vane, you’re goin’ to choke to death some day,” states Hashknife. “Right in the middle of one of them laughs you’re goin’ to quit seein’ the funny side of serious things. Now, you snake-hunters, pick up that would-be assassin and drift. I don’t want him clutterin’ up the scenery. Tell your friends that we’re receivin’ company at any time.”
They files past us and picks up Lem Seller. I don’t reckon Lem’s plumb dead, but he ain’t in no shape to help himself much. They loads him up and drifts, while me and Hashknife and the little kid stands there and watches ’em go.
Glory is inside the house. After they drifts out of sight I steps up to the door and peers inside. I see Glory standing by the front window. Then she turns and leans a Winchester rifle against the wall. Hashknife looks over my shoulder and sees her place the gun, and then he looks at me kinda queer-like.
Glory wasn’t takin’ no chances on Willer Crick smoking us up. The little kid hangs on to Hashknife.
“I like you,” says the little jigger, looking up at Hashknife.
“Well, for gosh sakes!” gasps Hashknife. “Whatcha know about that. Buddy, me and you are goin’ to bunk together for quite a spell.”
“You play wit’ me?” he asks.