“Speak out, and to hell with you,” he growled.
“I propose an exchange, that’s all. You can have these, and I’ll take yours and cry quits.”
His face was a study; rage battling with the conviction of helplessness as he glared at me.
“You are three to two, I know; but we’re well armed, and you have nothing but your knives. I could put a bullet into you at this minute just as easily, and much more surely than your men could have shot me a while since.”
He started, and I saw his hand go stealing to his sash.
“I shouldn’t draw it if I were you,” I said quietly.
He took the advice and stood thinking in sore perplexity.
Then I made my first mistake.
“I’ll treat you fairly. I shall pay you for the horses, and will send you a couple of hundred gulden for each of them, good Austrian money.”
His eyes lighted; and I read it for a sign of avarice.