“We’re willin’ to go now,” says I. Hashknife rips one of the boards loose and crawls inside.
“Ready to go, are yuh?” chuckles Sol Vane. “Jist try startin’, will yuh. There’s twenty rifles ready to give yuh a sendoff.”
“Think I ought to put Sim Sellers out of his misery?” I asks.
Sim Sellers quits crawling and looks back at me. He thought we had forgot him.
“Throw away your gun!” I yells at him, and he threw it away.
“Well, what have yuh got to say?” yells Sol Vane.
“Give me a chance to think it over.”
“Two minutes,” says Sol. “Two minutes will be all.”
“That’s enough,” grunts Hashknife, forcing his way out past the loose board.
He’s got a fifty-pound box of dynamite in his arms, a box of blasting caps and a coil of fuse.