lroad and leave me go my own way. I'm goin' on across
country until I come to another railroad, I am. And if I come to a
river, and I run across a boat, I'm goin' to take that boat and float
a ways. When I says nobody is goin' to know anything about what we did
to the Chicken, over there in Chicago, I mean it. Nobody is. But
didn't Sal know all three of us was goin' out on that job that night?
And when the Chicken don't come back, ain't she goin' to guess
something happened to the Chicken?"

"She's goin' to think he made a rich haul, like he did, and that he up
and quit her," said Wixy. "That's what she'll think."

"And what if she does?" said Sandlot. "She and him has been boardin'
with Mother Smith, ain't they? Ain't Mother Smith been handin' the
Chicken money when he needed it, because he said he was workin' up
this job with us? I bet the Chicken owed Mother Smith a hundred
dollars, and when he don't come back, then what? Sal will say she
ain't got no money because the Chicken quit her, and Mother Smith
will--"

"Well, what?" asked Wixy.

"She'll send word to every crook in the country to spot the Chicken,
and you know it. And when word comes back that there ain't no trace of
him--"

"You've lost your nerve, that's what ails you," said Wixy scornfully.

"No, I ain't," Sandlot insisted. "I've heard plenty of fellers tell
how Mother Smith keeps tabs on anybody that tries to do her out of ten
cents even. Why, maybe the Chicken promised to come back that night
and pay up. I bet he did! And I bet he _was_ sour on Sal. And I bet
Mother Smith knew it all the time, and that when he didn't come back
that night she sent out word to spot him or us. I bet you!"

"You've lost your nerve!" said Wixy drunkenly. "You never did have no
nerve. You're so scared you're seein' ghosts."

"All right!" said Sandlot, rising. "I'll see ghosts, then. But I'll
see them by myself. You can go--"

"Goo'-bye!" said Wixy carelessly, and finished the last drop in his
bottle. "Goo'-bye, ol' Sandlot! Goo'-bye!"

Sandlot hesitated a moment and then arose and, after a parting glance
at Wixy, struck out across the drying floor of the brick-yard, and was
lost in the darkness. Wixy blinked and balanced the empty bottle in
his hand.

"He's afraid!" he boasted to himself. "He's coward. 'Fraid of dark.
'Fraid of ghosts. Los' his nerve. I ain' 'fraid."

He arose to his feet unsteadily.

"Sandlot's coward!" he said, and threw down the empty bott