“You did that, hang you!” he snarled. “Now you gits paid fer it!”
As the ruffian uttered these words he placed a hand on his revolver and seemed on the point of shooting the helpless captive.
“Wait a minute, mate,” urged Wiley. “Let’s not be too hasty. There are three of us here, and I have a sagacious opinion that any one of us will take morbid pleasure in putting Mr. Merriwell out of his misery. I propose that we draw lots to see who will do the little job.”
“You seem mighty anxious to take a hand at it!” growled Henry.
“I wish to prove my readiness to stand by you through thick and thin,” asserted the sailor. “In this way I shall win your absolute confidence. Should it fall on me to do this unpleasant task, you will see the job most scientifically done.”
As he made this assertion Wiley laughed in a manner that seemed wholly heartless and brutal.
“I didn’t think it of you, cap’n!” exclaimed Frank.
“That’s all right,” returned the sailor brazenly. “I’m a solicitor of fortune; I am out for the dust. These gents here have assured me that I shall have a third interest in the mine when it is located. Every bird feathers its own nest. I have a chance to feather mine, and I don’t propose to lose the opportunity. If the task devolves upon me to transport you to the shining shore, rest easy in the assurance that I’ll do a scientific job. I will provide you in short order with a pair of wings.”
“That’s the talk!” chuckled Shawmut. “How does we settle who does it?”
“Have you a pack of cards?” inquired Wiley.