“Oh, they’re not expensive—they’re––”
“They’re yours. Cayn’t yo’ see? It’s your own books, an’ hit’s fo’ my work. I neveh knowed how good men could be, an’ they give me that boat fo’ a mission boat. Now—now—missy—I cayn’t tell yo’—I’ve no words––”
And with gratitude, with the simplicity of a mountain parson, he dropped on his knees and thanked God. As he told his humility, Prebol wakened from a deep and restful sleep to listen in amazement.
When at last Rasba looked up Nelia was gone. The books were on the table and he found another stack heaped up on the deck of the mission boat. But the woman was gone, and when he looked down the river he saw something flicker and vanish in the distance.
He stared, hurt; he choked, for a minute, in protest, then carried that immeasurable treasure into his cabin.
CHAPTER XXV
Renn Doss, the false friend, saw the danger of the recognition of the firearms by Carline. The savage swing of a half pound of fine shot braided up in a rawhide bag, and a good aim, reduced Carline to an inert figure of a man. “Renn Doss” was Hilt Despard, pirate captain, whose instantaneous action always had served him well in moments of peril.
The three men carried Carline to a bunk and dropped him on it. They covered him up and emptied a cupful of whiskey on his pillow and clothes. They even poured a few spoonfuls down his throat. They thus changed him to what might be called a “natural condition.”