“No, but——”
“Then mind his warning. He’s playing his game. He could have come aboard when he was in the canoe.”
“Dressed as an Indian?” asked Kenton, contemptuously. “How long would we have let him live?”
“While he told us his name,” returned the captain.
“You know better,” said MacAfee, hotly. “He daren’t risk it. You’re a coward, Marion Royce, that’s what.”
“And not avenge Cutler?” said Kenton. “Give us a boat. Give us the canoe if you won’t give us a boat, and we’ll go back.”
Marion Royce stood before them fearlessly. These were the men he had feared. Tried rivermen, both; utterly fearless, utterly insubordinate. A man named Merrick, and a younger one named Corson, both from Marietta, came forward and ranged themselves alongside Kenton and MacAfee. “We’re goin’ with ’em,” they said, sullenly. “We don’t turn our backs on no friend.”
Marion faced them. As they stood on the deck they were a fair mark in the moonlight for any chance robber who might pot them from the mouth of one of the caves. Lewis and Lincoln were at the sweeps. Moses, at the oar, was watching with his heart in his throat.
“You want to help Jimmy?” asked Marion.
“We’re goin’ to.”