“Surely not,” said I. “Had I been sleeping soundly this morning I would have missed the sight of all this mysterious preparation.”
He chuckled ominously.
“Had you been sleeping soundly—” he began and stopped. “All right, men. Hurry.”
A file of men came slipping up from aft. They moved with their bodies crouched far over and stepped softly. I heard their excited breathing as they drew near. And each of them bore in his hands a rifle.
“Four in this boat; four in the other,” commanded Brack. “Get down there without any noise.”
Garvin started to tumble over the side with the rest of the men; but Brack stopped him. They whispered together, and Garvin again went aft.
The men were all in the boats now and Brack and the new man stood at the ladders waiting to follow. The new man had his back toward me. He was speaking to the captain.
“Who the devil is this guy, Foxy?” he whispered. “I thought we were going to make a clean getaway.”
“Pitt,” said Brack, “step up and meet the gold-finder, the man whose story you didn’t think a good excuse for coming here.”
I stood where I was, but the man turned and took a step forward to have a better look at me, and then I knew why his voice had puzzled me. The man was Madigan, whom I had seen quarreling with Brack back in Billy Taylor’s saloon in Seattle.