“That’s true enough, messmate, but s’pose they turns nasty and picks up their guns. They’re wunners to shoot.”
“They dursen’t,” said Jem scornfully. “It would be murder. Finding gold like this upsets everything else. We don’t mean them no harm: all they’ve got to do is to jyne in and share, for not a yard further do we go, messmates, till we’ve got to the bottom of that gold.”
“Then they’ll sail without us.”
“No, they won’t,” said Jem meaningly; “for we shall want that there brig to take us back with all our gold.”
“Then there’ll be a fight.”
“Very well then, my lads, we must fight. Now then, it’s come to this—are we going to stand together like men?”
Brace held his breath as he waited for the answer, and the time seemed long; but it was only a few moments before a murmur of assent came which told only too plainly that the thirst for gold had swept every feeling of duty or allegiance aside.
“And I’ve been playing the mean treacherous part of an eavesdropper,” thought Brace, as he drew back softly and returned to the side of the smouldering fire, and after carefully judging the distance he made out where Briscoe was lying, and, proceeding cautiously to his side, knelt down and laid a hand upon his companion’s lips.
There was a violent start, and then the American lay perfectly still, and a husky whisper arose from his lips:
“What is it?”