"Fancy me going
off with you! What 'd your father say? and--and the rest? How would he
think of me? And what 'd he do?"
Joe felt sick at heart. He realized that in the spirit of the moment
he had given an invitation which, on sober thought, he knew would be
impossible to carry out. He tried to imagine his father receiving in
his own house a stranger like 'Frisco Kid--no, that was not to be
thought of. Then, forgetting his own plight, he fell to racking his
brains for some other method by which 'Frisco Kid could get away from
his present surroundings.
"He might turn me over to the police," the other went on, "and send me to
a refuge. I 'd die first, before I 'd let that happen to me. And besides,
Joe, I 'm not of your kind, and you know it. Why, I 'd be like a fish out
of water, what with all the things I did n't know. Nope; I guess I 'll
have to wait a little before I strike out. But there 's only one thing
for you to do, and that 's to go straight home. First chance I get I 'll
land you, and then I 'll deal with French Pete--"
"No, you don't," Joe interrupted hotly. "When I leave I 'm not going to
leave you in trouble on my account. So don't you try anything like that.
I 'll get away, never fear, and if I can figure it out I want you to
come along too; come along anyway, and figure it out afterward.
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