“I’d like tuh go along, Joe,” said Hank. “Them’s my cattle, yuh know and it’s no more’n right that I should be goin’.”
“It’s a one-man job, Hank. There’ll like as not be some powder burnt. Yuh don’t want tuh leave no widder behind yuh. In case I don’t come back, here’s the combination to my safe.”
He handed Hank a slip of paper on which were some penciled figures.
“In the safe is a sealed envelope addressed to you. It has some papers which will be uh use to yuh. But it ain’t tuh be opened till I’m dead, savvy?”
Hank nodded, then looked at Tad. “Reckon I’d best tell Joe about Pete?” Tad pondered this a moment, then: “Might as well. Can’t do no harm, Hank.”
“Pete’s aimin’ tuh swim the river from yon side uh the Narrers and come into the Pocket, Joe.”
“——!” Kipp’s eyes filled with pain.
“He’ll never make it, Hank. Even if he crosses, there’s a man watching the trail from the river. He’ll be killed, shore.”
“Then I reckon I’ll be goin’ along with yuh, Kipp,” said Tad. “Shorty went with Pete. If Shorty gits killed, all —— can’t stop me till I downs every last man that’s mixed up in this. All of them, sabe?” Tad’s eyes had gone hard as ice. The good-natured expression had given way to hard, grim lines.
“I reckon,” said Kipp slowly, meeting Tad’s gaze without flinching, “that I sabe, Ladd. That bein’ the case, I want that you should come along with me.”