He raised the muzzle of his rifle to one of the logs over his head. Pelliter could see the fresh splinters sticking out.
“They’ve got some heavy calibers,” continued Billy, “and they’ve hidden behind the slope, where they’re safe from us for a thousand years. As soon as it grows light enough to see they’ll fill this shack as full of holes as an old cheese.”
As if to verify his words a single shot rang out and a bullet plowed through a log so close to Pelliter that the splinters flew into his face.
“I know these little devils, Pelly,” went on MacVeigh. “If they were Nuna-talmutes you could scare ’em with a sky-rocket. But they’re Kogmollocks. They’ve murdered the crews of half a dozen whalers, and I shouldn’t wonder if they’d got the kid in some such way. They wouldn’t let us off now, even if we gave her up. It wouldn’t do. They know better than to let the Law get any evidence against them. If we’re killed and the cabin burned, who’s going to say what happened to us? There’s just two things for us to do—”
Another fusillade of shots came from the snow ridge, and a third bullet crashed into the cabin.
“Just two things,” Billy went on, as he completely shaded the dimly burning lamp. “We can stay here ’n’ die— or run.”
“Run!”
This was an unknown word in the Service, and in Pelliter’s voice there were both amazement and contempt.
“Yes, run,” said Billy, quietly. “Run— for the kid’s sake.”
It was almost dark in the cabin, and Pelliter came close to his companion.