“Honest, mister,” it was a grown boy who spoke at last, “we only kill what we got to have to eat. We can’t starve.”
“Ya, we do,” put in a heavy-set man with ham-like hands.
“We-l-l—” Drew was thinking fast. “I’m an officer of the law. I could take you all right. But I’m after bigger game. There are kidnapers on this island. Know that?” He turned to the boy of the group.
“No, I— There’s some queer ones back there at Baley’s cabin. We seen ’em. Sort of black. But not niggers, I don’t think.”
“They’re the ones. How’d you like to help catch them?”
“We—” The boy stared. Then of a sudden he started talking rapidly in a strange language. His two beefy companions listened with popping eyes.
“They’ll do it, all right,” Drew whispered to Johnny. “Got to! Between the devil and the deep blue sea, they are. Go to jail for poaching or help catch crooks. What would you do?”
“We’ll go,” the strange boy said simply.
“Ya. We do,” one of the men agreed.
“Good! Now we are five,” Drew exulted. “Not a bad lot,” he mumbled to Johnny. “Just ignorant and hungry. Good shots, too, I’ll bet on that.”