“Tell it, then.”
Pant did tell—told all he knew.
“Huh!” the old man grunted. “He’ll come back. Daego’s got him hid out somewhere. Wouldn’t quite dare kill him outright. Leastwise, I don’t think so. Can’t tell about that half-caste strain in his blood, though.”
“He’ll come back,” echoed Pant, “but meantime we’ve got to carry on the work. ’Twouldn’t do to disappoint Johnny when he comes back. We got to get all this red lure down by the water ready for the trip down.”
“What’s worse,” said Hardgrave, “we’ve got to do just what you said a minute ago; keep old Daego guessing. Don’t like his taking up more men. Looks bad. May come over here like a young army any time, bent on driving us out. Got any place for this?” He pointed at his miscellaneous cargo stacked on the bank.
“Have to use Johnny’s office, I guess.”
The next morning, Gesippio, a Carib who bunked close to the office, said to his work mate, “There was devil doin’s in that office of Johnny’s last night.”
“Devil doin’s?”
“Devil doin’s! First the whole place was lit up like it was busting with flames. Seemed like every crack was shootin’ flames. Then all was dark again. Pretty soon there came a blue blaze, sort of low-like, and a hissin’ sound like the old Serpent, the Evil One, might o’ made. Then all of a sudden, sendin’ me all of a heap, there came a most terrible bang. After that I didn’t hear no more.”
From that time on the cabin that had been Johnny’s office was kept carefully locked day and night.