“Don’t do dat, Marse White Man! Don’t do it! You’ll spoil dat gun if you do!”
Ben’s expostulation—his look and his words—spoken as one of the men raised his rifle to strike him down, created such a roar of laughter from the gang that the man could not strike.
“An’ it’s no use killin’ such a good cook an’ servant as I is. ’Fore de wah I’d have brought a heap o’ money—you bet I would!”
Another laugh showed that Ben’s appeal had put his captors in something like a better humor, or else the rich spoil they had taken from Mainwaring had done it.
For the man who seemed to lead the gang had found a full set of diamond shirt studs on the rich young rancher, a diamond ring, a fine watch, and a wallet full of money.
“Rich—this chap sure is rich!” said the outlaw leader gleefully, as he showed the plunder to his mates.
“Maybe he’s got more that could be reached, Bill Harkness. Let’s keep him till we find out about that,” suggested one of the men.
“Well, I’ll agree to that,” said the leader. “We can make use of this black man, anyway, when we get to the cave. He says he can cook.”
“I jest kin do dat, Marse White Man!”