"Well, then, John," a ghost of a smile flitting across her lips. Men were not generally sentimental in the face of death.
"There are nine of us!" screamed one of the brigands.
"And I claim one bag because without my help and brains you would have had nothing," roared the chief. "Who warned you against the opium? Ha, pig!"
The first blow was struck. Instantly the chief drew his knife and lunged at the two nearest him.
"Treachery!"
"Ha! Pigs! Dogs! Come, I'll show you who is master!"
"Thief!"
The remaining brigands closed in upon their leader and bore him upon his back.
"To the tiger with him!"
"Now!" cried Bruce.