“First,” said Johnnie, “we’ll go back to Pocatello and pay Mary. She told me she was going to Salt Lake soon to visit George at the big house. I want to send a few dollars to some people there. The kid here wants to pay the hundred to Shorty that went to Judge Powers and the ten George gave him. You’ll probably want to send something, too. We can give it all to Mary and she’ll deliver it. While we’re there I’ll have her buy me a pair of smoke wagons. No telling how soon I’ll be broke, and if I have a couple of guns I won’t be helpless. Then I’m going home for the winter, if nothing happens. When I got this last jolt I wrote and told my people I was going to Alaska for two years and they wouldn’t hear from me till I got back.

“I go home now and then when I have a decent piece of money. My old people are both living, and I’ve got seven brothers and sisters. I bring them all something nice for presents, not that they need anything, but just to rub it into them. I am the youngest and always had to take the leavings. The first lock I ever busted was on the pantry in the kitchen of my old New Hampshire home, so far away.

“Where are you going, kid?”

“I’d like to stay with you people, but if you are going to split out, I’ll go to San Francisco for a while.”

“You can go with me,” cut in Sanc. “I’m going to San Francisco for the winter. No New Hampshire winter for me.”

I think the two of them were looking forward to a few months of quiet, peace, and maybe dissipation. My thoughts were running ahead to future burglaries. No thought of going home, even when Johnnie was telling of his home life. When I was hiding in the empty house covered with Smiler’s blood, I wanted to go home, because I was in a tough hole. Now I was safe, independent, the life fascinated me. No thought of home now.

“What shall I do with the balance of the dynamite and drills?” I asked. “Somebody might step on the bundle and blow the house down. It’s planted out in the back.”