“So I thought. And jest at this time I wish I wa’n’t neither. I guess it would be money in my pocket if I was out of this scrape.”
“But what have you got?” demanded the scout, impatiently. “Any pistols?”
“Yes, a pair of beauties up in my pack. But I don’t want to dirt ’em up in this scrape if I can help it. I calculated to make a good thing out of ’em when I found the right customer.”
Dick gave utterance to something which sounded very much like an oath.
“You’ve got a customer for ’em now, and if you save yer scalp in the trade you’ll make the best bargain you ever did. Bring them down and load them up at once. We ain’t got a moment to lose in getting ready.”
With evident reluctance the Yankee turned away and clambered once more up to the loft. It took him some little time to search them out in the dark, but when he returned he had them in his hands.
The scout took them from him, for the purpose of examining them to see if they were properly loaded and in good order.
“Come,” said Peleg. “What will you give me for ’em? I’ll sell ’em ’tarnal cheap. Speak out. I stump you to make me an offer.”
The sound of footsteps was heard above their heads, and the next moment the excited face of Ned was thrust down through the opening.
“They are coming; a half-score of them at least are crossing the clearing.”