That was why a dreadful fear suddenly sealed the lips of Amos. But Big Gabe read his answer in the look of alarm that shot athwart the boy’s face. He laughed harshly, and then went on to say:
“Git busy an’ cut up the deer, Amos, none o’ yer puttin’ on airs now or I’ll be tempted to use that on ye,” and he lifted one of his tremendous fists that had knocked scores of men down in the days when Big Gabe “ruled the roost” as the bully of the logging camp.
Amos was no fool. He could be discreet as well as brave. And truth to tell, a wild desire now began to seize upon him to learn in some fashion just what the plans of these two conspirators might be, in order that he could make them come to naught, and save his chums.
By running away he would lose all chance of finding this out. And besides, he was apt to take unnecessary risks, because he honestly believed Gabe would shoot after him, using the shot gun in order to simply lame him.
And then, there was Teddy’s prized gun—how could he have the face to go back to camp and tell how that had been plucked from his hands without his being able to make the least resistance?
So Amos making the best of a bad bargain, took out his knife, got down on his knees beside the slain deer, and started to cut the carcass up. The two men sat there on the log Amos had recently vacated, watching his labors, and occasionally exchanging a remark, generally to the effect of how enjoyable it was to have some one to do all the dirty work.
This was no new business to the woods boy. He pretended not to pay any attention to what was said by the men. But he saw that Hackett kept the Marlin gun across his knees all the while, allowing his own old weapon to lie unheeded on the ground.
“Now tie up all them parts in the skin, so ye kin tote ’em, Amos,” ordered the despot, when the boy announced that he had taken all the choice portions.
There was nothing to do but grin and bear it, though Amos doubtless thought his lines had fallen in anything but pleasant places.
“Pick her up!” ordered Big Gabe, as he arose, tucked Teddy Overton’s gun under one arm, and his own under the other. “We got about two miles ter kiver; an’ me ’n Jarda here, bein’ kinder rusty in the j’ints, ain’t as well able ter pack loads acrost kentry as when we was young an’ nimble guides. Head straight into the south, Amos. And I hopes as how ye’re too sensible ter think of tryin’ ter run away, ’cause I’d hate to pepper ye with this ere scatter gun; but I swear I will if so be he tries to skin out.”