“Did you give op?” he questioned anxiously.
“Give up nothing,” I retorted, my temper thoroughly exhausted. “Come out of that! You are firing on your own friends.”
He put his fat fingers to his nose and wiggled them derisively.
“Dot is too thin,” he said meaningly. “You dink me von ol' fool, but I show you. By Chiminy, I want no friends—you shoot me der ear off, and I fights mit you good and blenty. Der is dings to eat in der bantry, and you be damned.”
He drew back, leaving merely the black muzzle of his gun projecting across the top of the lower door.
“Ebers,” I called out at the top of my voice, “unless you obey my orders I'LL have you strung up by your own men. Open that door!”
The fat, puzzled face peered once more cautiously over the menacing gun-barrel.
“Is dot you, Captain?”
“Yes, come out; the fight is all over.”
“No, vos it?” and he flung open the lower half of the door. “Veil, I vos not sorry. Have ve vipped dem already?”