"I walked up to the trap with him, and, while praying with the prison chaplain, kept whispering it was all right, and he kept quiet until they had the cap over his head, and then he knew I had him. He tried to yell that I was the Devil's Admiral—-but it was too late then. I felt that I was justified—-he would have killed me the next day. But it was a fine joke, to my mind, Mr. Trenholm."
"Ain't ye goin' to quit gammin' with that chap and give us a hand here?" demanded Buckrow. "Is that what ye call all bein' equal, Mr. Thirkle? If ye do, I don't."
He came toward us in a threatening manner, and Thirkle, seeing that he must submit with good grace, got up and met him with a smile.
"By all means, Bucky, we are equal, but I didn't think ye'd begrudge me a little time after what happened. How does the gold fit in there?"
"Wet as a junk. We put the first sack in the eyes of her, but it's no kid's play, and we ought to have help, Mr. Thirkle, if we get clear away from this island to-night. We can't swear there won't be no moon, and, moon or no, we want to be out of the jungle and at the boats by sundown. And what's the game with the writin' chap here? I'm minded to have him do a bit of this work."
"Gold don't rust, do it, Thirkle?" asked Petrak. "I told Bucky gold don't rust but he don't like the water in there."
"Oh, dry up!" growled Buckrow. "What with yer talk we'll be at this job all night—"
"I vote—" began Petrak.
"To the devil with ye and yer votin'!" said Buckrow. "It's time we got to work, all hands, and so we will, and the writin' chap'll turn to and do his bit, or I'll know why. If he ain't to do his part, or we don't make no use of him, I say we'll up and do for him now and have it done with. Next ye know he'll make his getaway, and then a nice mess we'll be in."
"We don't intend to let Mr. Trenholm get away," said Thirkle. "I was just thinking, lads, that there are three of us, but counting Mr. Trenholm we make four, and we can rattle him down so he can lift and carry, but not much else."