"Where did you last see him?" asked Bayne. He had grown deadly white, and
the old man, lifting his face, gazed vaguely from one to the other. Their
intense but controlled excitement seemed subtly imparted to his nerves.
The details of the tragedy had become hackneyed in his own consciousness,
but their significance, their surfeit of horror, revived on witnessing
their effect on others.
"Look-a-hyar, you two an' this woman will stan' up fur me when I gin
myself up fur State's evidence, ef I put ye on the track fur findin'
Bubby? He's thar all right yit, I'll be bound--well an' thrivin, I
reckon. He hev got backbone, tough ez a pine knot."
"Yes, yes, indeed; we pledge ourselves to sustain you," cried Lillian.
Bayne was putting the glass of brandy into the grimy, shaking paw,
mindful of the old man's shattered composure.
"It be a mighty risk I be a-runnin'"--the old, seamed face was of a
deadly pallor and was beginning to glister with a cold sweat. "I reckon I
oughtn't ter tell nuthin' exceptin' ter the officers, but--but--I 'lowed
leetle Archie's mother would help me some again them bloodhounds o' the
law.
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