“No,” I said, “I don’t care to.”
He looked at me sharply a moment and then went on:
“Just as you please, of course. But me and the boys was talking it over and we calculated it was the best way to dispose of you, a pile the best for you and some better for us.”
I had kept looking straight into his eyes, under his big eyebrows. “No,” I said, “I won’t do it.”
“Oh, take your choice,” he answered, “take 208 your choice. Just as you think best, of course. Only you know the old saying about how dead men don’t tell any tales. And if you come in with us you get your share, just the same as if you’d done your part of the work.”
I said nothing. He waited a minute, then went out and shut the door. I sprang up and pulled and wrenched at the brace with all my strength. The handcuffs cut into my wrists, but I did not feel it. The brace stayed as firm as ever. I sat down weak and trembling with my last hope gone. A minute later there was a loud explosion in the bank, which shook the building I was in. Next came a cheer from the men. Then voices, and I heard Pike shout:
“It’s all afire here–bring a pail of water, Joe!”
The well windlass creaked and I heard a man start in from the back. Next I heard Pike say, “We’ll soon fix that fire,” then came an explosion and a crash, like an earthquake, and the wall came down upon me, and the counter came over and I was half under it. I heard the cries of the men, and, wriggling 209 about, I got out from under the counter and found my hands free from the brace, and the snowflakes coming in my face through where half the side of the building had been blown away.