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Trenhum knows; and what's more, that parson ain't no more a parson than I be if he's a parson I'm a bishop. Now, them two brought a bad lot aboard with 'em Petrak, thar in irons, and this Buckrow, and Long Jim." "It does look queer," admitted Riggs. "Trego had his suspicions all the time, cap'n. They got him before he could tell ye what he guessed. Trego never liked the both of 'em.
"Don't shoot!" he whined. "Don't shoot! Where did ye git the gun, sir? We never knowed as how ye had it. Don't shoot, Mr. Trenhum! Ye mind how I took yer luggage aboard!" "Where's Thirkle and Buckrow?" I demanded. "Up there," he said, swinging his free hand in the direction we had come, and I saw the familiar crafty look come into his eyes. "How far?"
"Quite a bit, sir; in a cut of a clift with the booty." "How far?" "Not far it ain't, Mr. Trenhum. Roundaboutish, but not far; and I'm thinkin' I might lead ye on to 'em, sir, if ye'd let me have the sack we had, sir. Ye done for Jim right enough, but that's my sack now." "Throw down that knife and unbuckle your belt, and see that you don't reach for a pistol," I said.
I wash my hands o' the whole cussed mess if ye don't look at it and see for yerself. "I don't want the responsibility, and we've got to take some precaution. That's what the killin' was for, and I'll bet a clipper-ship to a doughnut-hole that writin' chap Trenhum knows about it, and he ain't no writin' chap, neither.
Trenhum; maybe Petrak knowed about it; maybe Buckrow and Long Jim knows; but, anyhow, whoever had that knife hooked into Trego knowed, and ye can put that in yer pipe and smoke it." "But I don't believe anybody would broach cargo. We can keep the door locked, and bury this under a mess of stuff, say spare chain and a lot of old heavy gear." "Broach Tophet!" snorted Harris.
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