“Better keep a civil tongue in your head,” snarled Joyce. “How come you sneakin’ around this mill to-night? Who put you wise to what’s goin’ on?”
Possessed of only a small fund of diplomacy, Curly saw a chance to make his enemy writhe, and at once took it, regardless of all other considerations.
“Never you mind who put me wise,” he retorted. “I’m on, all right. I know you’re goin’ to set fire to the mill to-night, an’, what’s more, I know who put you up to it—see? Git that through your dome? I’ve got evidence stowed away—in a safe place, too—that’ll send somebody to Thomaston Prison for a nice little bit. Get me?”
All of this was not strictly true, but the young riverman could not pass up the chance to make Joyce shiver. A moment later he more than regretted the impulse.
“Little Johnny-on-the-spot, ain’t you?” snarled the red-headed man, when he had partially recovered from the shock. “You made a nice bull, though, exposin’ your cards before the show-down.”
His jaws came together with a snap, and, rising suddenly to his feet, he dropped on one knee beside Curly. In another second he had thrust a lump of waste between the helpless riverman’s jaws, and tied it down with a dirty strip of cloth. Then he resumed his seat.
“Jest a little precaution against noise,” he said unpleasantly. “My pals are out in the yard, an’ I ain’t anxious for ’em to know I brung you in here. They think you’re a second watchman—see? I got sight o’ your face first an’ covered it up so nobody would know you was here. Bill’s down to Lynchburg, soused, an’ likely won’t show up till mornin’. This was to be the night for our little shindy, only, not havin’ no word yet, I was goin’ to give it up—till you come along. Now I think I’ll let things go ahead, word or no word. Get me, Steve?”
He arose, leering hideously, and Curly felt the perspiration begin to burst out all over his body. His wide-open eyes—the only part of him which could move—sought Joyce’s, but the fellow’s gaze, shifting continually, thwarted the attempt. Kollock noticed—just why he did not know—that the other’s face was deathly pale, and that his low forehead was covered with little beads of sweat. A second later Joyce picked up the lantern and moved lightly toward the door.
“Jest tell ’em that you saw me, an’ give ’em my regards,” he sneered over his shoulder, but his voice cracked on the last word, and, stumbling over a loose board in the floor, he disappeared.
For perhaps half a minute Curly lay absolutely still. Then the horror of what that human fiend meant to do struck him with full force, turning him cold and then hot as fire. He rolled over on his face, and, bracing both feet against the foundation of the saw, strained the splendid muscles of back and arm and shoulder as he had never strained them before. The ropes cracked a little, but held fast, biting deep into his flesh. He paid no heed to the pain. Again he strove with all his might to break those bonds. Again he failed. Joyce had done his work well.