As he spoke those fierce words, the young Greek drew a knife. His face was convulsed with passion and hatred for this daring American boy who, he believed, had caused him so much trouble. He longed to rush at Brad and stab him to the heart.
The manner of the Greek was enough to warn the Texan of his danger.
“Whoop!” cried Brad. “If the gent is anxious to enter into a carving contest, just give me a toadsticker and I’ll show him my style. I opine I can interest him some.”
Donatus weakly waved his hand.
“I am wearied,” he said. “I must rest. When I have rested I will say what shall be done. Until that time, place the boy in the cave.”
“But, chief, he is——”
The wounded brigand cut Maro short with a flashing look from his still terrible eyes.
“What I have said I have said,” he declared. “Those who dare disobey me invite destruction.”
Then, as directed by him, Buckhart was marched away to the cave, before which the guard still paced to and fro.
Maro sank down, his face wearing a look of bitter disappointment. Tyrus squatted beside him, whispering in his ear: