" He looked
at the bullet mark on the tree again. "Tell ye what, Mister Whitley,
I'll chance her; but we ain't got no time ter talk now. We gotter git
away from here, fer some er the boys 'll be along purty quick. We'll
just mosey 'round fer a spell an' then go back ter th' corners. I'll
send th' boys off on er hot chase en' fix Sim so's ye kin git erway
t'-night, an' ye come ter my shack; hit's on th' river below that hill
with the lone tree on top, jes' seven mile from th' corners. Ye can't
miss hit. I'll be thar an' have things fixed so's we kin light out
befo' th' boys git back."
They reached Simpson's in time for dinner and Jake held a long whispered
conversation with that worthy, while Jim sat on the porch after the
meal.
As Jake passed him on his way to the mule that stood hitched in front
of the blacksmith shop as usual, he said, in the hearing of those near:
"Hit's all right fer to-morrow, is hit, Mister Whitley? An' we'll go
over tother side Sandy Ridge?"
The words "all right" were accompanied by a wink that Whitley
understood.
"Yes," he answered carelessly, "I'll be ready. I want to rest this
afternoon and get a good sleep tonight. I'll be with you in the
morning."
Jake rode off, and all the rest of the day Whitley felt that he was
the mark for many scowling glances, while many whispered words were
passed between the gaunt natives as they slouched in and out of the
post office. Later, when the loafers had seemingly disappeared, Simpson
came, and leaning carelessly against the door post within a few feet
of Whitley, said, in a low voice: "They's a watchin' ye from th' shop
yonder; be keerful an' don't let on.
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