DON’S revolver was out. It seemed suddenly that men were all around us. From behind a tree-trunk squarely ahead a figure appeared with leveled cylinder. The ground leaves were swishing behind us with swiftly advancing footsteps.
“Easy, Bob!”
Don found his wits. If he had not at that moment we would doubtless have been annihilated in another few seconds. “Bob, we’re caught—don’t shoot!”
I had flung away the cylinder and drawn my revolver; but Don shoved down my extended hand and held up his own hand.
“We’re caught!” He shouted aloud. “Don’t kill us! Don’t kill us!”
It seemed that everywhere we looked was a leveled cylinder. I half turned at the running footsteps behind us. A man’s voice called in English.
“Throw down your weapons! Down!”
Don cast his revolver away, and mine followed. I was aware that Jane had recognized Don’s voice, and that she was on her feet staring in our direction with horrified eyes.
The man from behind pounced upon us. It was the giant, Tako.
“Well, my friends of the restaurant! The American who knows New York City so well! And the Bermudian! This is very much to my liking. You thought your jail would imprison me, did you not?”