“’Ow is he, boss? T’ink we’d better get t’rough wid him?”
“He seems unconscious. That pounding you gave him with the slung-shot was too much for his thick head, and may kill him, after all! He hasn’t been able to speak a word since he has been here. But you shall speak!” he continued to Morris, “you shall speak and tell me where to find the deed, or I’ll slit your throat for you! Wake up and speak, or I’ll tear your heart out, you old fool! Where is the deed? Where is the deed, I say?” Then the villain choked the unconscious man, shaking him like a rat, and finally discouraged, threw him back again upon the pillow. “It’s no use, Dopey; he is the same as dead! We must wait and search!”
“Dora! Dora! mein little chilt!” murmured the unconscious Morris, in a feeble tone.
“Hear dat, boss? He spoke!”
“And he’ll speak again, or I’ll cut his throat!” And as he said these words, John bent over Morris and threatened him with a keen and shining knife. “Will you speak and tell me where that deed is, or shall I cut your throat? Answer me!”
“Oh, cut away, boss! You’re losin’ time.”
“And lose the deed to that mine—not much. I’d rather wait. He was talking of his child while still unconscious, and that makes me feel sure he will come to in time and tell us where the deed is, or he’ll never leave this bed alive!”
“And where is de gal now?”
“Oh, Muriel has got her, and I’ve got them both fastened in the old shack below.”
At this instant there was a loud hallo, which caused the two murderers to grow pale and start, but John said: