He stepped close to
Ware's side. "What'll come of the girl, Tom? Can you figure
that out?" he questioned, sinking his voice almost to a whisper.
But Ware was incapable of speech, again his terrors completely
overwhelmed him. "I reckon you'll have to find another overseer.
I'm going to strike out for Texas," said Hicks.
Ware's eyes met his for an instant. He had thought of flight,
too, was still thinking of it, but greed was as much a part of
his nature as fear; Belle Plain was a prize not to be lightly
cast aside, and it was almost his. He lurched across the room to
the window. If he were going to act, the sooner he did so the
better, and gain a respite from his fears. The road down the
coast slid away before his heavy eyes, he marked each turn; then
a palsy of fear shook him, his heart beat against his ribs, and
he stood gnawing his lips while he gazed up at the sun.
"Do you get what I say, Tom? I am going to quit these parts,"
said Hicks. Ware turned slowly from the window.
"All right, Hicks. You mean you want me to settle with you, is
that it?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm going to leave while I can, maybe I can't later on,"
said Hicks stolidly. He added: "I am going to start down the
coast as soon as it turns dark, and before it's day again I'll
have put the good miles between me and these parts."
"You're going down the coast?" and Ware was again conscious of
the quickened beating of his heart. Hicks nodded. "See you
don't meet up with John Murrell," said Ware.
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