Now git this; thar's a right smart trail back o' the cabin, leadin' straight down ter the crick, with a spring 'bout half way.
Thar ain't no guard down thar, an' ye can't miss it, even en the dark.
The hosses will be thar et midnight waitin' fer yer.

All ye got ter do is just put them two gurls on an' ride away.

Yer don't never need ter speak ter 'em.

Yer understand?
All right, then; hav' anuther drink." I shook my head.
"But how'm I goin' ter git ter this place--whatever it's called ?" "Thar ain't no trouble 'bout thet; all yer got ter do is ride straight south till yer cum ter the crick, an' yer thar.

It's Jenkins' Crossing yer after." "I reckon thar ain't eny Injuns, er nuthin' ?" "Hell, no; they're all t'other direction; nuthin' worse'n wolves.