From far down the shaft a faint bark echoed clearly. It was the bark of a fox, followed in quick succession by more of the same sounds.
George Lardner faced him, neck red and arms akimbo.
"You're getting too damned clever for your own good," he shouted. "I oughta' knock some of the cockiness out of you."
Drake had a slow temper. But behind the Cinderella Drake who had soused himself so thoroughly in Lardner's whiskey still lurked the keen eyed air patrol cadet who had only six months ago put his body through every air battle on the west coast. Some of the old strength and nerve were coming back now. Coming with a rush of hot blood to his head.
Puffy Adams had sworn he'd stick by Drake until that spirit returned. Now, ringed in by steel death, Adams' face lighted with interest. Yet, he realized that Drake had small chance against these bums.
The cave was dead silent again. Lardner breathed hard, crouched like an oversized wrestler about to spring.
rake's face was suddenly cold, emotionless.
"If your men weren't ready to shoot me down the minute I move," he said slowly, "I'd pound you within an inch of your rotten life."