I
don't need to tell you that I'm for you."
"No, not after tonight," Billy assured him.
They went on again for some little time without speaking,
then Billy said:
"I got two things to tell you. The first is that after I seen
that newspaper article in your clothes I thought you was
figurin' on double-crossin' me an' claimin' the five hun. I
ought to of known better. The other is that I didn't kill
Schneider. I wasn't near his place that night--an' that's straight."
"I'm glad you told me both," said Bridge. "I think we'll
understand each other better after this--we're each runnin'
away from something. We'll run together, eh?" and he extended his
hand. "In flannel shirt from earth's clean dirt, here, pal,
is my calloused hand!" he quoted, laughing.
Billy took the other's hand. He noticed that Bridge hadn't
said what HE was running away from. Billy wondered; but
asked no questions.
South they went after they had left the city behind, out into
the sweet and silent darkness of the country. During the night
they crossed the line into Kansas, and morning found them in
a beautiful, hilly country to which all thoughts of cities, crime,
and police seemed so utterly foreign that Billy could scarce
believe that only a few hours before a Chicago detective had
been less than a hundred feet from him.
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