"But, sir, there are only five of us here. How long do you suppose we could stick it out?"
"Till der lastd oldt cat be dead, py chiminy!" exploded the German. "Herr Merrill, you are all righd. Young man, are you afraidt?"
"No," protested young Markley indignantly, "but——"
"Budt what, eh? Answer me dot, blease. Budt vot?"
The belligerent German advanced till his pudgy forefinger was shaking under Markley's aristocratic nose.
"Well, they say, you know, that Madero isn't very gentle to his prisoners, especially when they happen to be gringoes."
"There, there, Markley," said Mr. Merrill, with a tinge of impatience, "don't repeat all the old gossips' tales about Madero. Why, if one believed half of them, he would be endowed with hoofs and horns, not to mention a tail with a spike on the end. If either you or Redman or Jennings wishes to leave the mine, you may. I'll write you a check for the amount I owe you now."
"Well, you see, sir," began Markley, but Geisler interrupted him furiously.
"Ach Himmel! Vot are you, a man or a Strassbourg pie? Donnervetter! Go! Raus! gedt oudt! Vamoose!"
"Sir," began Markley, turning to Mr. Merrill from this furious storm of abuse.