[Pg 41] [Pg 41] Elly Elly You ain’t givin’ yerself up? Butch, you mustn’t! It’s wrong of me to say it. You’ve broke the laws, you’ve sold whiskey, you’ve killed a man—you’d oughta suffer fer it. But you mustn’t! You got to go—quick—they’s time! I’ll leave you grub ever’ day by the foot-log that’s been washed up by the Crick. I’ll keep a lookout. When it’s safe— Butch Butch I ain’t goin’. I ain’t gonna give myself up, neither. I got a plan. (Fiercely.) An’ if you try to bungle it, if you try t’ put yer nose in, or even open yer mouth, I’ll kill you, d’ you hear! You know I will, too! Elly Elly W’at’re you gonna do? Butch Butch Put that gun back. Put it back, I say! (She crosses reluctantly, and is putting the gun back in the bunk. The door is kicked open, viciously. Three men with pistols in their hands eye them from the high threshold. It is the Sheriff and his deputies.) Sheriff Sheriff (nervously) Sheriff Two of ’em. Keep yer eye on the womern, Plank. (To Butch.) Put ’em up! (The men come down into the room. The Sheriff is a florid-faced man, with a long mustache.) Search him, Joe. (Joe comes over, makes a quick search of Butch, and finds nothing.) No gun, eh? Make shore, Joe. We doan wanna take no chances. Butch
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