"What do—oh, that! Simon says 'thumbs up,' you mean? It doesn't mean anythin' serious, Tip. Just another way of saying, 'Faint heart never won a bet in its life' and 'It's always darkest 'round midnight.' Don't mind if I take a snooze, do you, Tippy, old boy?"
Billy rolled over on his stomach, rammed his head into the pillow and completely relaxed his body, but, although his breathing soon became deceptively regular, he was far from being asleep. He was thinking as purposefully as ever he had in his life. He had to escape. He had to! To permit his enemies to do this thing was intolerable. There was a way out. Every strait, no matter how close and awkward it may be, has its way out.
He built many plans while he lay there. But there was a flaw in each and every one of them. His brain was still feverishly busy when Felix Craft returned about the middle of the afternoon.
As the door opened and Craft entered, Billy sat up. "Have a nice time?" he drawled.
"Went through like clockwork," replied Craft, slumping into a chair beside the table.
"Not even a li'l teeny-weeny hole in you anywhere?" Billy demanded hopefully. "Hell, I shore had a better opinion of Jerry Fern than that."
"Jerry didn't do any fightin' to-day," said Felix. "Handed over his watch like a major."
"Yeah, Tip said you'd take his watch. Funny you didn't know Jerry Fern was driving this trip when I asked you. Tip knew."
"Oh, I knew all right," Craft said carelessly. "Lord A'mighty, I'm hungry. My stomach is sticking to my backbone closer than a postage stamp to a letter. I ain't had a thing to eat since breakfast. Got any more eggs and ham, Sam?"
"If you want anything to eat, you can cook it yourself," said Sam. "It's like I told Bill here, I ain't goin' into that kitchen till suppertime."