“Aw, Shanty! Blood of tuh devil, chief! Canst not take a joke?”
“Am taking it now, ma sons,” laughed Moir, and kicked more brands down the tunnel.
Gasping and choking from the smoke that filled the tiny pit, Joey and Tammy essayed to crawl out. Bang! went Moir’s six-shooter and they hastily retreated. The tunnel was filled with smoke by this time. Down at the bottom, choking coughs and cries told that the two unfortunate men were being suffocated. Moir waited until the faintness of the sounds told how far gone the men were. Then he motioned to Reivers with his revolver. The smoke was leaving the pit by this time.
“Step down and drag ’em out, old son,” he said. “Come now, no hanging back. Tuh trigger on this gun is filed down so she pulls very light.”
Reivers obeyed, climbing into the pit as if trembling with fear, and toiling furiously as he dragged the unconscious men out, though he could have walked away with one under each arm.
“Throw water on ’em. Splash ’em good.”
Ten minutes later Joey and Tammy were sitting up, coughing and sneezing, and trying their best to make Moir believe they had only been joking.
“Good enough, ma sons; so was I,” chuckled Moir. “Now back to tuh job, and if ever you doubt who’s top man here you’ll stay in tuh pit till you’re browned well enough to eat. Dost hear me?”
“Aye, Shanty,” said the two men humbly, and hurried back to their tasks.
“And now, jackass and old ox, step over here and get into tuh harness,” commanded Moir.