“Humph! Is that all?” ejaculated Blaisdell.
“I reckon thet’s all an’ I’m figgerin’ it’s a hell of a lot,” responded Blue, dryly. “Thet’s what Jorth will think.”
“Where do we come in?”
“Wal, y’u all can back me up,” replied Blue, dubiously. “Y’u see, my plan goes as far as killin’ Jorth—an’ mebbe his brothers. Mebbe I’ll get a crack at Queen. But I’ll be shore of Jorth. After thet all depends. Mebbe it ’ll be easy fer me to get out. An’ if I do y’u fellars will know it an’ can fill thet storeroom full of bullets.”
“Wal, Blue, with all due respect to y’u, I shore don’t like your plan,” declared Blaisdell. “Success depends upon too many little things any one of which might go wrong.”
“Blaisdell, I reckon I know this heah game better than y’u,” replied Blue. “A gun fighter goes by instinct. This trick will work.”
“But suppose that front door of Greaves’s store is barred,” protested Blaisdell.
“It hasn’t got any bar,” said Blue.
“Y’u’re shore?”
“Yes, I reckon,” replied Blue.