He was standing by his wheel, ready to start.
They shook hands, and Joe held on to his for a moment, as he said:- "I'm goin' to see you again, Mart, before you an' me die.

That's straight dope.

I feel it in my bones.

Good-by, Mart, an' be good.

I like you like hell, you know." He stood, a forlorn figure, in the middle of the road, watching until Martin turned a bend and was gone from sight.
"He's a good Indian, that boy," he muttered.