"I'll take that chance. It seems a heap better to me than
staying here."
Ware looked from the window. The shadows were lengthening across
the lawn.
"Better start now, Hicks," he advised.
"I'll wait until it turns dark."
"You'll need a horse."
"I was going to help myself to one. This ain't no time to stand
on ceremony," said Hicks shortly.
"Slosson shouldn't be left in the lurch like this--or your
brother's folks--"
"They'll have to figure it out for themselves same as me,"
rejoined Hicks.
"You can stop there as you go by."
"No," said Hicks; "I never did believe in this damn foolishness
about the girl, and I won't go near George's--"
"I don't ask you to go there, you can give them the signal from
the head of the bayou. All I want is for you to stop and light a
fire on the shore. They'll know what that means. I'll give you
a horse and fifty dollars for the job."
Hicks' eyes sparkled, but he only said
"Make it twice that and maybe we can deal."
Racked and tortured, Ware hesitated; but the sun was slipping
into the west, his windows blazed with the hot light.
"You swear you'll do your part?" he said thickly. He took his
purse from his pocket and counted out the amount due Hicks. He
named the total, and paused irresolutely.
"Don't you want the fire lighted?" asked Hicks. He was familiar
with his employer's vacillating moods.
"Yes," answered Ware, his lips quivering; and slowly, with
shaking fingers, he added to the pile of bills in Hicks' hand.
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