“Yes. That would be best.”
“Is the house watched?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t help it. I’ll go soon as I’ve eaten.”
“I’m going, too,” she told him. “I ought to be with Mollie.”
“You come to-morrow—not to-day. There may be trouble.”
“No, there won’t be any trouble—and I’m going with you,” she answered. There was a queer little smile on her face, a smile of friendly mockery.
“I’m not going alone, you know,” he explained. “Dutch travels with me.”
“Then there’ll be three of us.” She stepped to the kitchen door, but before she opened it mirth bubbled in her face and broke to laughter. “Come in, Mr. Dutch. We start on a long journey about dusk.”
Dutch shuffled into the room—at least the man was Dutch in walk, in manner, dress, and beard. Hugh looked at him again, and still a third time, before he discovered that this was Jim Budd made up for the part of the desperado.