SCOTCHING A SNAKE
James Strong was lying half waking and half sleeping, his rifle at his side; he saw us instantly, however, as we stepped into the firelight, and was on his feet in a moment, dragging his rifle up with him.
"Drop the gun, James Strong," said Henderson, "and put up your hands. I am covering you, you see, and this is not the revolver you choked. Drop it at once, or I fire. I will count three. One—two"—Strong let the rifle fall. Neither the thud of this nor the sound of Jack's voice awoke the other two, who still slept, I covering them with my rifle.
"Pick that thing up, Peter," said Jack. "I'll see to the covering." I did as my captain bade me.
"Chuck it on the fire," he continued. "I shall pay you for it, Mr. Strong, but I am afraid you are scarcely to be trusted with a rifle just at present."
I heard Strong grind his teeth as I picked up his gun, took the cartridges out, and threw the weapon on the fire.
"Sit down, Mr. Strong, and empty your pockets," continued Jack, and his victim obeyed, because he could do nothing else.
"Take those other rifles, Peter, and do the same by them," pursued Jack; "then wake those fellows, and see if they sport revolvers. Have you none, Mr. Strong? Come, produce it if you have. Feel his pockets, Peter, and his saddle-bags. What, has he none? Well, you shall give him yours, Peter, one day; perhaps he will know how to get the lead out since he put it in!"
Strong's face through all this was not a pleasant study.
I obeyed Jack's decrees to the letter. I collected all the weapons—three rifles and one revolver—and threw them on the fire; I awoke the two sleepers, who swore frightful oaths when they realised the position of affairs, and cleared their pockets and wallets and saddle-bags of cartridges, all of which I confiscated.