Alas! it cannot conquer the lust and fiendish greed of gold that inspire this meeting.
Petersen sprang to his feet.
“Elman,” he cried, “stand up and repeat those words; stand up like a man, and we’ll soon see who is the coward and the muff.”
But a Finn held up his hand.
He seemed to be the leader and chairman of this mutinous assembly.
“Boys,” he cried, “there shall be no fighting, no disputes. We must hold together through thick and thin; to quarrel means to fail. Now,” he added, “I’m a plain-spoken man. Elman, you’ve got to apologise to good Petersen"—the Finn produced a pistol as he spoke. “You’ve got to apologise, or we can soon arrange for you to sleep beneath the cactus.”
Elman advanced, and shook hands with Petersen, who grasped his manfully.
Then pipes were lit, and there was a lull in the conversation, broken at last by Petersen himself.
“Men,” he said, “let us try to arrange this little affair, without unnecessary bloodshed or violence. Antonio has been good to me; he must be spared. Little Teenie has got round all our hearts: her life is sacred! Is it not so, boys?”
“Yes! yes!” from all save one. He too was a Finn, of the lowest caste. His bushy eyebrows and fiendish looks proved him to be a man who would stick at nothing to gain an end.