"The harridan forgot it!" answered Coutlass. "She was so delighted to get vengeance on Rebecca by taking her away from me that she did not care for anything else! She hates you! She hates me! She hates Rebecca! Those who hate—as I can hate!—would rather have revenge than all the riches of Africa! Do you think I would hesitate between money and revenge on her?"
"All right," Fred answered. "The map, then—what about it?"
"Take me with you and the map is yours!"
"Show it to me, then!"
"I must have a share of the ivory!"
"Show me the map first!"
Coutlass searched inside his flannel shirt—swiftly—more swiftly—angrily. His jaw dropped. Even between the fire-light and the moonlight one could judge that his color changed—and changed again.
"Show me the map before we bargain!" Fred insisted. "Hurry, man!
There's Mr. Yerkes with the canoe. We can't wait here all night!"
"It is gone!" admitted Coutlass. "Some one stole it!"
"I could have told you that in the first place," Fred informed him, rising to his feet. "I have the map in my pocket."