"We must take care that he doesn't; and I'll make it worth your while to take the risk. Can you get help in capturing him?"
Brannon nodded. "Here comes one now that'll bear a hand willingly if you give him his price;" and as he spoke he waved his hand toward a tall, burly figure just emerging from the wood a few paces from them.
"Dree of us," muttered Hans, watching its approach; "dat ish pooty goot; and mynheer, too; dree, four against two. We takes dem brisoner mitout fail."
The last comer was drawing near with long and rapid strides.
"What's that?" he asked sharply and bringing his rifle to his shoulder. "Ah, is it you, Jack! what's up?"
"Yes, it's me, Bill Shark," answered Brannon. "Come on; here's a gent as has a job suited to the likes of us."
As the fellow came near enough for a distinct view of his features, Lyttleton involuntarily shrank from him, so brutal and forbidding was their expression.
But recovering himself instantly, he repeated substantially, and under the same promise of secrecy, what he had been saying to Brannon.
"I'm your man, if we can agree on the terms," was the rejoinder. "I'll want a pretty stiff price, mind ye, stranger, for it's like to be a risky business, more so than if ye wanted him put clean out o' the way; for 'dead men tell no tales,' you know."
Lyttleton shook his head.