“You can’t dissolve partnership with me in any such way,” I informed him. “Especially not right now, just as I’ve got the world by the tail.”
“I’ll show you whether I can dissolve partnership or not,” he barked; and he began running about the inclosure, roaring threats and peering here and there. He was plainly hunting for a weapon of some sort in order to beat me away from the door.
“Kama!” I called to her—the first time I had ever addressed her so familiarly, but that was no time for niceties. “Kama, it’s no use to plead with your father. He’s no better than a lunatic. He’s going to throw everything into the hands of that thief of a Keedy. It mustn’t be done!”
The captain had found a dub and was coming at me.
She put herself between us. He knew better than to raise his club against her, and he kept dodging back and forth to get past her. He paid no attention to her protests and appeals.
“Mr. Shank—Mr. Jones,” she cried, “take that club away from my father. He is not in his right mind.”
“It would be mutiny—mutiny and State prison,” stammered the mate.
“I’m his daughter—I’ll go into court if it ever comes to that! I order you to do it!”
“Keep the others off, and I’ll do it,” I said in her ear, and I rushed past her.
Holstrom struck at me viciously, but my rush had taken him by surprise. I caught his arm and the stick, and tore the weapon away from him. But to down him and subdue him was a different proposition—and a very husky job he made of it for me.