"Wait a minit, an' I will."
Grable hastened to where the two captives lay bound, and stooping raised Edith in his arms. An angry cry broke from Abel's lips, and he strove desperately to break free, but in vain. The next moment Seth Grable stood upon the ledge, holding the maiden before him in such a manner as to perfectly shield his body; and laughing, he demanded:
"Now what ye want? Here I be—talk quick, though."
"What'll ye give for us to let ye go free?" asked Fosdick.
"You let us go free? Why, ye pesky fool, we're two to one now. You cain't keep us here one minnit, 'f so be we want to git away," sneered Grable.
"Lyin's cheap, or you'd starved to death long ago. But never mind thet now. The matter's jist this. You're up thar, we're down here. Yon cain't come down unless we say so. We've got nineteen rifles—sixteen men to han'le 'em, sence you rubbed out three. We kin pick ye off one by one as fast as ye putt fut over the edge. An' it's either that or starvin'. They ain't much game up thar, I don't reckon. Then you'll sca'cely drown'd yourself, 'ca'se water's too sca'ce. Thar it is in a bullet-mold. How d' y' like it?"
"Even s'posin' it was all true—which it ain't by a durned sight, mind ye—it'll be nice fun to think thet while you was starvin' us, you was doin' the same to your fri'nds; to this gal an' Abel Dare."
"It wouldn't be very scrumtious, I know," coolly returned Fosdick, "but then, sich is life. 'F you fellers hold out, bein' durned contrairy fools, why then they's got to suffer, thet's all. But I said tarms, a bit ago. We want to give ye a chaince. Send down the boy an' gal, safe an' sound, an' we'll 'low ye till mornin' to git to a safe spot. Mind ye, 'tain't 'ca'se we love ye any, but we don't want to hurt the boy an' gal, if so be we kin help it."
"S'pose I say I won't do it?" sullenly replied Grable.
"Then we'll do one of two things," abruptly cried the Wood King. "We'll either take you by storm, or lie here until we starve you out. Now decide, quick!"