Darting a wrathful glance at Polcher, McGillivray bitterly reminded:
“Hester was your trusted tool. You pick your men well!”
“I shall kill him when I meet him,” promised Polcher.
To the outlaw McGillivray said:
“Suppose you say just what sort of a bargain you wish to make with me. After all, we may be able to trade.”
“An’ why not?” eagerly cried Hajason, the lust for profit showing in his gleaming eyes. “I’ve got somethin’ ye hanker for. Ye’ve got somethin’ I want.”
“Yes; I want the Tonpits. What will you take?” promptly asked McGillivray.
“Two thousand pounds,” was the cool response.
“If it was possible for you to leave this village without being torn to bits by my dogs I would advise you to peddle your wares elsewhere,” said McGillivray. Then he let himself go, and in a voice that trembled with passion he denounced, “You base-born cur! You dare step between McGillivray of the Creeks and his ambitions? You dare dictate what he shall pay for stolen goods?”
With the snarl of a wild animal Red Hajason dropped his hand to his belt, but Polcher pushed the muzzle of his pistol against the shaggy head, while the emperor’s folded arms opened and a second pistol was brought to bear. Polcher deftly slipped his hand along the giant’s belt and removed his weapons, stood back from him and looked inquiringly at the emperor, his eyes asking whether he should shoot or not.