"But he says—he says"—her voice shook, but she forced herself to go on—"that this letter isn't to be sent until his death."
"Yep. So it does. But he got to asking for you. So I just lit out to give you a chance to go if you want to. It's up to you. Do just as you please."
"Of course I'll go. Is he—is he as bad as he says?"
"Pretty bad, the doc says. But I reckon he's good for a day or two. My advice would be to start right away, though, if you want to see him alive."
"Yes. That would be best. I'll see mother now." She stopped at the door and leaned against the jamb a little faintly, then turned toward him. "It was fine of you to come, Chad. I know you don't like him. But—I won't forget."
"Oh, tha's all right," he mumbled.
"Have you seen Mr. Threewit yet?" she asked.
"Threewit—no." He was for a moment puzzled at her question. "No—he's out getting a set somewheres in the hills."
Ruth came back and took the note from Harrison's reluctant fingers. "He ought to get this at once. I'll send Billie Brown out with it. He'll explain to Mr. Threewit about us going on ahead and not waiting for him."
The prizefighter did not quite like the idea. He would rather have kept the note himself and burnt it later. But it was out of his charge now. Without stirring doubts he could not make any objection. Anyhow, he would be in Sonora and safely married to Ruth long before the deception was discovered.