“Nothin’, didn’t say nothin’, but when I put out he put out after me.”
“Followed you?”
“Yep. I only lost him last night; but it’s ten to one he’ll drop on us. He’ll be bustin’ everywhere round here.”
“He will,” said Sellers, “and then it’s half shares he’ll be wantin’, not to mention Cark’s liver. I’m sweatin’! Cark’s let that chap down cruel. I owns it. Did it against my advice. Did he have many with him?”
“Reckon so. The old Natchez was full as a beehive with the toughest-lookin’ crowd.”
The sight of Sellers’ face at this announcement set Jude off. She seized the fish and started off to the galley with it, while Sellers, having communed with himself for a moment, spoke:
“Crooked’s a bad course to run,” said this moralist. “I’ve always told Cark so. I told you we’d no dynamite aboard,—neither we had,—but there’s a keg of powder in the hold, and Cark reckoned to sample the goods without your help. There, it’s out! You’d have had your share as long as I’d a leg to stand on, honest you would, s’far as I was concerned, and that’s all I have to say pers’nally on the matter. What I’m gettin’ at is this: If Cleary turns up, there’ll be hell of a rough house. Will you stand for us if there’s fightin’ to be done?”
“That depends,” said Satan.
“Which way?”
“I’m not trustin’ you no more, not without the coin in my hand. Cark’s got to plank down something on account, if it’s no more’n a thousand dollars. If he don’t, I’ll put out for Havana and blow the gaff. You’ve overhauled the wreck?”