They'll never run on to us," argued the other.
"Go on a piece farther," insisted the man called Bill, who was gripping Jamie's arm so hard that it ached.
"Let the kid go! What's the use of draggin' him along?
He'll just be in our way, and we've got troubles enough of our own," suggested the other.
"He ain't goin' back and have a chance to give us away to that bunch, not if I knows it.

I've about made up my mind to croak him.

He knows too much.

Go on and find a place to bunk.

I'm follerin'." "You won't croak anybody while I'm hangin' around! I'm tellin' you I've got troubles enough on my hands already without chasin' a noose.
I'm goin' to save my neck anyhow, and I ain't goin' to be mixed up in any croakin'," muttered the one called Hank, as he turned and plunged forward again through the darkness.
What "croaking" meant Jamie did not in the least know, but he suspected that it referred to something not in the least pleasant for himself.