“Cloudy McGee double-crossed us!” swore Putney. “He knew we’d do this, the dirty pup. Well,” Putney waved his arms in desperation, “we’ll have to kill McGee and get that money.”
“You do it,” said Amos wearily. “You can have my part of it. My Lord, that man is strong!”
“But don’t you see where it puts us?” wailed Putney. “He’s got all the money—eleven thousand. He don’t have to rob the bank now.”
“But he swore he’d do it, Putney,” Amos grasped at any old straw. “He didn’t promise not to rob us.”
“Well, if you can get any satisfaction out of that,” said Putney. “Anyway, it leaves me holding the sack. I’ve got nothing to gain, even if he keeps his word. I’m out a thousand. All it’ll do is to save your hide.”
“Well, isn’t that enough, Putney?”
“I wouldn’t give a thousand dollars for you, guts, feathers and all. I’ve sure bought something—I have.”
“Aw-w-w-w, it may turn out all right, Putney. Look at the jaw I’ve got on me, will you?”
“I don’t care anything about your jaw Go on home. When he robs that bank. I’m going to—” Putney hesitated.
“What are you going to do?”