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Didn't I always cut the loot as I agreed? I'm Thirkle, and when I say a thing I mean it. Now, Bucky, think it over before it's too late. Will ye go it alone, or will ye give me a fair play at the game, and come out with yer life and a fair share of the gold? It's for you to decide, and see ye don't make a mistake."
The brush on the top of the cliff overlapped the crevice, so that it was quite dark a few feet from the entrance. The walls were slippery with a thick, funguslike moss, from which cool water dripped. "That gold will rust in here sure as a nigger's black," grumbled Buckrow, as he felt his way out. "I don't like this place at all." "Best place on the island," whispered Thirkle.
Even if he found the camp, I doubted that he would attack until it would be too late for me, as he would naturally suppose Buckrow and Long Jim to be near by. It was coming on toward twilight, and there were still seven sacks to be carried in. Thirkle had finished burying Buckrow, and set to dragging the sacks close to the entrance of the crevice, so we would not have to carry them so far.
He stood a second waiting for an answer, and then he started for the boat, but stopped at the edge of the shadows. "What's wrong, Thirkle? Sing out, can't ye? What's gone amiss?" Thirkle's legs were quiet now, but I could hear his heavy breathing, and it reminded me of the steam exhaust from an ice-factory.
As he had kept on toward the beach, away from the direction of Thirkle's camp, I knew he was not going back to the others, and reasoned that he would hardly dare to return to Thirkle, who had probably missed the sack of gold, or would demand explanations which Petrak would have difficulty in giving. I picked up the knife and went and looked at Long Jim.
"Of course he will if we stand here and argue about it until it is too late!" I stormed at him. "Pass me a gun don't be a fool, Reddy. Quick! Cut these ropes from my hands and give me a pistol and let me show you how to draw your Mr. Thirkle's teeth!" "What's all this social chatter between you two?" demanded Thirkle from the entrance to the crevice.
When they put the rope on yer necks and the black caps over yer heads, just remember Thirkle said it would come out that way. They'll make a nice job of ye." Petrak shivered and looked at Buckrow, who stood with arms folded, staring at the ground. "Oh, stow that gab, Thirkle!" he said. "Never ye fret about me and Reddy; ye'll be dead, anyhow, and ye won't mind."
"We was all good sorts and fine men, Reddy, when the bloomink loot was coming and there was windpipes to slit, and 'e had to 'ave 'ands to do the work for 'im. Ye mind what he told me, Reddy?" "What was it Thirkle told ye, Jim? I'd give a bob to know. Was it about me, Jim?" "Tells me the same bloody thing 'e told ye," said Jim, shutting one eye and making a grimace to impress Petrak.
There's no Thirkle aboard here. Thirkle! Why, that's " "Thirkle," I said, "is the Rev. Luther Meeker. He is the head of the whole gang." "Then poor Harris was right," he moaned, feeling for a chest and sitting down upon it. "Harris was right." I could hear despair in his voice he was master no longer, but a broken, dispirited old man.
Buckrow, buying a ship to come back here for it, wouldn't ye or mayhap ye'd leave that part of it to Petrak." "How'll ye get away with it if yer so sharp about it?" demanded Buckrow. "What can ye do outside what we can do hey, Thirkle?" "I've got it all planned out, ye can bank on that. I didn't get this gold here without knowing what I was at, or how I was going to draw through.
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