Goldstein, palpitating between hope and despair, watched and listened to this crossfire of threat and defiance wherein the fate of his money was at stake. A half-crazy light arose in his eyes and he seemed meditating some desperate move.
Grattan lifted his voice.
"Hello, out there! We've got Motor Matt under the point of a revolver, and if you don't retreat from the vicinity of this hut, there'll be shooting."
"Is that so, pard!" came wildly from McGlory.
"Stay where you are," cried Matt. "They won't shoot—they don't dare."
"Bunce," began Grattan, "you'd better——"
Grattan had no time to finish. With a wild yell of fury Goldstein flung himself at Grattan and seized the buckthorn cane, jerking it away and whirling it about his head.
"The buckthorn!" shouted Bunce, in more of a panic than the Jew's manœuvre seemed to call for; "he's got the buckthorn cane!"
Grattan let go of his temper for the first time, and whirled and leaped at Goldstein. The Jew struck at him viciously, the blow falling short and knocking the box of glass balls out of his hand and upon the floor.
"Mask! mask!" bellowed Grattan.