“We got to croak her,” he said. “Dey ain't no udder way. If dey finds her alive she'll blab sure, an' dey won't be no trouble 'bout gettin' us or identifyin' us neither.”
“Le's beat it,” he whined. “We can't more'n do time fer dis job if we stop now; but de udder'll mean--” and he made a suggestive circle with a grimy finger close to his neck.
“No it won't nothin' of de kind,” urged his companion. “I got it all doped out. We got lots o' time before de dicks are due. We'll croak de skirt, an' den we'll beat it up de road AN' MEET DE DICKS--see?”
“I ain't gone nuts. Wait 'til I gets t'rough. We meets de dicks, innocent-like; but first we caches de dough in de woods. We tells 'em we hurried right on to lead 'em to dis Byrne guy, an' wen we gets back here to de farmhouse an' finds wot's happened here we'll be as flabbergasted as dey be.”
“Oh, nuts!” exclaimed the other disgustedly. “Youse don't tink youse can put dat over on any wise guy from Chi, do youse? Who will dey tink croaked de old woman an' de ki-yi? Will dey tink dey kilt deyreselves?”
“Dey'll tink Byrne an' his pardner croaked 'em, you simp,” replied Crumb.
Dink scratched his head, and as the possibilities of the scheme filtered into his dull brain a broad grin bared his yellow teeth.
“You're dere, pal,” he exclaimed, real admiration in his tone. “But who's goin' to do it?”
“I'll do it,” said Crumb. “Dere ain't no chanct of gettin' in bad for it, so I jest as soon do the job. Get me a knife, or an ax from de kitchen--de gat makes too much noise.”
Something awoke Billy Byrne with a start. Faintly, in the back of his consciousness, the dim suggestion of a loud noise still reverberated. He sat up and looked about him.
“I wonder what that was?” he mused. “It sounded like the report of a gun.”
Bridge awoke about the same time, and turned lazily over, raising himself upon an elbow. He grinned at Billy.
Says I, “Then let's be on the float. You certainly have got my goat; You make me hungry in my throat for seeing things that's new. Out there somewhere we'll ride the range a-looking for the new and strange; My feet are tired and need a change. Come on! It's up to you!”
“Come on, then,” agreed Billy, coming to his feet.
As he rose there came, faintly, but distinct, the unmistakable scream of a frightened woman. From the direction of the farmhouse it came--from the farmhouse at which Billy had purchased their breakfast.