"What was that you said Willie?" called Aunt Saxon's anxious voice.
"Aw, nothing!" said Billy, and slammed out the gate, his wheel by his
side. Now! Something had to be done. He couldn't have
that going on. He was hurt at Mrs. Severn. She ought to take
better care of her daughter! In sullen despair he mounted and rode away
to work out his problem. It was certain he couldn't do anything with
Saxy snivelling round. And something had to be done!
Billy managed to get around the country quite a little that morning. He
rode up to Economy and learned that Mr. Fenner, the tailor, was sick,
had been taken two nights ago, was delirious and had to have two men to
hold him down. He thought everybody was an enemy and tried to choke
them all. He rode past the jail but saw nothing though he circled the
block three times. The Chief stood out in front talking with three
strange men. Billy sized them up for detectives. When there was nothing
further to be gained in Economy he turned his steed toward Pleasant
Valley and took in a little underground telephone communication between
a very badly scared Pat and a very angry Sam at some unknown point at
the end of the wire. It was then, lying hidden in the thick
undergrowth, that a possible solution of his difficulties occurred to
him, a form of noble self sacrifice that might in part do penance for
his guilt. Folded safely in his inner pocket was the thirty pieces of
silver, the blood money, the price of Mark Carter's freedom and good
name. If he had not taken that he might have fixd this Pat so he would
be a witness to Mark's alibi. But according to the code he had been
taught it would not be honorable to squeal on somebody whose money he
had taken. It wasn't square. It wasn't honorable. It was yella, and
yella, he would not be if the sky fell. It was all the religion he had
as yet, not to be "yella." It stood for all the fineness of his soul.
But he had reasoned within himself that if in some way he could get
that money back to Pat, then he would be free from obligation. Then he
could somehow manage to put Pat where he would have to tell the right
thing to save Mark. Just how it could be done he wasn't sure, but that
was another question.
When Pat had trundled away to the train he rolled himself out from
ambush and went on his way across Lone Valley by a little tree-shaded
path he knew that cut straight over to Stark mountain.