“Nothing doing,” said Lockwood.
Hanna stepped closer and looked down at him curiously.
“What’s wrong with you?” he said. “You haven’t got a ghost of a show now. You’re down and out. I’ve told the Power boys things about you. They’ll shoot you at sight if you ever turn up there again. I don’t need to do anything for you, but I felt as if I ought to give you a last chance. That’s what’s the matter with me—got too tender a conscience.
“These boys ain’t troubled that way, though,” he added, indicating the boat’s crew. “I’ll just leave you with them. Let’s get out of here, Bob. It’s hotter’n hell.”
He half turned and bestowed a piercing glance on the prisoner.
“It’s your last chance,” he said. “Well?”
“No,” said Lockwood.
“Well, you’ve had a run for your money, anyway,” returned the crook, and he went out.
For another five minutes, perhaps, the men talked on the rear deck.
“Ain’t takin’ no sech chances. Do it yourself,” he heard Bob say.