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At length he spoke. "See here, boy," he said, his voice sinking to a hoarse whisper, "how long had you been livin' on that there island?" Jeremy looked up wonderingly. "Not long," he answered, "only a day or two, really." "And you nor none of yer folks never went nosin' 'round there to find nothin', did yer? Tell me the truth, now!" Daggs leaned closer, a murderous intensity in his face.
And the others were no lambs. I'll tell you, my hearties, Daggs has gathered up a pretty lot of rascals in this crew. Not one of 'em but looks as if he'd knife you for a copper farthing! "These four by the fire wasted no time, but went through my pockets in a hurry. They took my pistol and were quarreling about dividing the goldpieces I had, when the rest of the crowd began to appear.
Uncertain yet of her reaction to this, but more bitter and furious as he revealed his utter baseness, she waited for more to be said. "Wal, I'll be doggoned," drawled Daggs. "What do you make of this kind of fightin'?" queried Jorth, "Darn if I know," replied Daggs in perplexity. "Shore an' sartin it's not the way of a Texan. Mebbe this young Isbel really is what old Gass swears he is.
Have you ever heard a real ingrowing Englishman start a word in the roof of his mouth and then back away from it as if it was red-hot and had prickles on it? It's interesting. They seem to think it is indecent to come brazenly out and sound a vowel. The Reverend Ponsonby Diggs as near as I could get it he called himself "Pubby Daggs" greeted Petey with great relief.
Do you know who I think is at the head of that crew, over in the creek?" "Who?" whispered Bob. Jeremy's face was pale as he leaned close. "Pharaoh Daggs!" He said the name beneath his breath, almost as if he feared that the man with the broken nose might hear him. And now for the first time he told Bob of the schooner that had slipped past in the dark that night in the East River.
Ellen, however, had to exert herself to get free of him, and when she had placed the table between them she looked him square in the eyes. "Daggs, y'u keep your paws off me," she said. "Aw, now, Ellen, I ain't no bear," he remonstrated. "What's the matter, kid?" "I'm not a kid. And there's nothin' the matter. Y'u're to keep your hands to yourself, that's all."
"Never mind, dad," she replied. "They cain't marry me." "Daggs said somebody had been talkin' to you. How aboot that?" "Old John Sprague has just gotten back from Grass Valley," said Ellen. "I stopped in to see him. Shore he told me all the village gossip." "Anythin' to interest me?" he queried, darkly. "Yes, dad, I'm afraid a good deal," she said, hesitatingly.
Jeremy shivered, took a step nearer, and almost cried out, for he had caught a glimpse of a livid, diagonal scar cutting across the nose from eyebrow to chin. It was such a scar as could belong to only one man on earth. Jeremy retreated to a darker part of the room and watched till the man lifted his head. It was Pharaoh Daggs and none other.
A superbly built man leaned against the doorpost. Like most Texans, he was light haired and light eyed. His face was lined and hard. His long, sandy mustache hid his mouth and drooped with a curl. Spurred, booted, belted, packing a heavy gun low down on his hip, he gave Ellen an entirely new impression. Indeed, she was seeing everything strangely. "Hello, Daggs!" replied Ellen. "Where's my dad?"
Daggs had been quiet for a full two minutes, a crafty gloating smile playing over his thin lips. Now once more he touched a place upon the sheet before him. "Right there, she'll be," he muttered. Then, after slowly rolling up the paper, he replaced it and locked the box. The eyes of the boy in the bunk gleamed excitedly, for he was sure now of the nature of the document.
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