It's rotten. I don't know---- Say, you
don't know me, and I don't guess you care a curse anyway. But I was
brought up in a city and taught to believe things were a deal better
than I've lately come to think they are. Psha! These fellers have got
to be hanged when and where we get them. But it hurts me bad to think
that I've got to take dollars for handing you their lives. Oh, that
don't tell you a thing either. You'd say I don't need to take 'em.
But I do. I got to take those dollars, if they blister my hands and
burn the bones inside 'em. I've got to have 'em, and I'd like to burn
'em, every blazing one. But I've got to have 'em. Say, I'll be paid
on the nail when the job's done? If I get shot up the money'll be paid
to my wife? Will you give me your word, sir? Your word of honor?"
"My word of honor."
"Say, then come right back with me to my shanty no, best not. We'll
ride back to Orrville, and I'll hand you all I know as we go. I can
quit you before we reach the township. Then you can hustle the crowd
together and I'll be waiting ready at my shack to play my part--the
dirty rotten Judas racket.
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