"Come on, then, boys! Fill up!"
And with a wild laugh he began scooping the gems, hap-hazard, into the pockets of his torn, battle-stained uniform. Jewels of fabulous price escaped his fingers, like so many pebbles in a sand-pit, and fell clicking to the golden floor. With shaking hands the major dredged into the pit before him, mad with a very frenzy of greed.
"Stop!" cried the Master, sternly. "No nonsense, now!"
"What?" retorted Bohannan, angrily. His bruised, cut face reddened ominously.
"Drop those jewels, sir!"
"Why?"
"Principally because I order you to!" The Master's voice was cold, incisive. "They're worthless, now. No make-weights! We can't have make-weights at a time like this. To think of jewels at such an hour! Throw them back!"
A flash of rage distorted the major's face. His blue eyes burned with strange fire.
"Never!" he shouted, crouching there at the brink of the jewel-pit. "Call it insubordination, mutiny, anything you like, but I'm going to have my fill of these! Faith, but I will, now!"
"Sir—"