"That you will find very difficult. In the first place, if you were to cut my throat—"
"Which is just what I intend to do."
"If you were to cut my throat,—which in itself will be difficult,—you would only find the trifle of gold which I have got for our journey as far as 'Frisco. That won't do you much good. The rest is in circular notes, which to you would be of no service whatever."
"My God," said the man suddenly, "I am not going to be done in this way." And with that he drew out a bowie-knife which he had concealed among the things which he had extracted from the bag. "You don't know the sort of country you're in now. They don't think much here of the life of such a skunk as you. If you mean to live till to-morrow morning you must come to terms."
The room was a narrow chamber in which two beds ran along the wall, each with its foot to the other, having a narrow space between them and the other wall. Peacocke occupied the one nearest to the door. Lefroy now got up from the bed in the further corner, and with the bowie-knife in his hand rushed against the door as though to prevent his companion's escape. Peacocke, who was in bed undressed, sat up at once; but as he did so he brought a revolver out from under his pillow. "So you have been and armed yourself, have you?" said Robert Lefroy.
"Yes," said Peacocke;—"if you come nearer me with that knife I shall shoot you. Put it down."
"Likely I shall put it down at your bidding."
With the pistol still held at the other man's head, Peacocke slowly extracted himself from his bed. "Now," said he, "if you don't come away from the door I shall fire one barrel just to let them know in the house what sort of affair is going on. Put the knife down. You know that I shall not hurt you then."
After hesitating for a moment or two, Lefroy did put the knife down. "I didn't mean anything, old fellow," said he. "I only wanted to frighten you."
"Well; you have frightened me. Now, what's to come next?"