“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Nigel, laying hold of the negro’s wrist with a grip of iron; “when a man like Van der Kemp gives an order it’s the duty of inferior men like you and me strictly to obey.”
“Well—p’raps you’re right, Nadgel,” returned Moses calmly. “If you wasn’t, I’d knock you into de middle ob nixt week for takin’ a grip o’ me like dat.”
“You’ll wish yourself into the middle of next fortnight if you disobey orders,” returned our hero, tightening the grip.
Moses threw back his head, opened his cavern, and laughed silently; at the same time he twisted his arm free with a sudden wrench.
“You’s awrful strong, Nadgel, but you don’t quite come up to niggers! Howse’ber, you’s right. I’ll obey orders; neberdeless I’ll get ready for action.”
So saying, the negro extracted from the canoe several revolvers, two of which he handed to Nigel, two he thrust into his own belt, and two he laid handy for “massa” when he should return.
“Now, if you’re smart at arit’metic, you’ll see dat six time six am t’irty-six, and two double guns das forty-forty dead men’s more’n enuff—besides de knives.”
Moses had barely finished these deadly preparations when Van der Kemp returned as quietly as he had gone. His face was still fierce and haggard, and his manner hurried though quite decided.
“I have seen him,” he said, in a low voice.
“Seen who?” asked Nigel.