Anybody'll tell you that. If he gives his word he'll keep
it. I don't know anything about what you did and if you ask me if I want
to see you get captured I couldn't tell you, because I don't know how I
feel. But if you'll let me go now I'll promise not to say anything to
anyone. I don't want to go to Buffalo. I want to go to my camp. As long
as I know about you, you got to trust me some time and you might as well
trust me now."
If the fugitive could have seen Pee-wee's earnest face and honest eyes
as he made this pitiful appeal, he might have softened a little, even if
he had not appreciated the good sense of the boy's remarks.
"I'd ruther get me other duds on fust, 'n' I'd like fer ter hev ye meet
me pal," he said, with the first touch of humor he had shown. "Now, if
yer go ter cuttin' up a rumpus I'll jest hev ter brain ye, see?"
Pee-wee leaned back against the side of the car in the darkness as
despair seized him. He had always coveted adventure but this was too
much and he felt himself to be utterly helpless in this dreadful
predicament. Even as he stood there in a state of pitiable
consternation, a shrill whistle sounded in the distance, which was
echoed back from the unseen hills.
"Dat's a freight," said the convict, quickly.
Pee-wee listened and his last flickering hope was extinguished as he
recognized the discordant rattle and bang of the slow-moving train,
emphasized by the stillness of the night. Nearer and nearer it came and
louder grew the clank and clamor of the miscellaneous procession of box
cars.
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