Now at length the sentry opened one side of the gate, grumbling, and Leonard swaggered up the steps followed by the other two. Already they were through it, when suddenly he turned and struck Otter in the face.
“Why, Dog,” he said angrily, “you have forgotten to bring up the keg of brandy, my little present for the Dom. Go and fetch it. Quick, now.”
“Pardon, Chief,” answered Otter, “but I am a small man and the keg is heavy for me alone—if you will deign to help me, for the old woman is too weak.”
“Do you take me for a porter that I should roll kegs of cognac up steps? Here, my friend,” he went on addressing the sentry, “if you wish to earn a little present and a drink, perhaps you will give this fellow a hand with the cask. There is a spigot in it, and you can try the quality afterwards.”
“Right, Senor,” said the man briskly, and led the way down the steps.
A look of dreadful intelligence passed between the dwarf and his master. Then Otter followed, his hand upon the hilt of the Arab sabre which he wore, while Leonard and Soa waited above. They heard the man’s heavily booted feet going down the steps followed by Otter’s naked footfall.
“Where is your keg? I don’t see it,” said the sentry presently.
“Lean over, senor, lean over,” answered Otter; “it is in the stern of the canoe. Let me help you.”
There was a moment’s pause, to the listeners it seemed hours. Then came the sound of a blow and a heavy splash. They hearkened on, but nothing more was to be heard except the beating of their hearts and the distant noise of revelry from the camp.
Three seconds passed and Otter stood beside them. In the dim light Leonard could see that his eyes stared wide and his nostrils twitched.