Sinewy fingers had tightened on Bothwell's throat and a strong hand had wrenched the revolver from him.
Panting, I struggled to my feet. My opportune friend covered the Russian with his own weapon and drawled out a warning.
"Don't you now, Mr. Pirate, or I'll certainly have to load you up with lead."
Bothwell lay on the bed, his breast heaving from his exertions. In no man's looks have I ever seen a more furious malice, but he had sense enough to recognize that this was our moment.
"If it ain't butting in, what were you gentlemen milling around so active about this warm day?" asked Yeager.
"Same old point of difference. Captain Bothwell wanted a map."
"Sho! You hadn't ought to be so blamed urgent, cap. It don't buy you anything."
The Russian struggled with his rage, fought it down, and again found his ironic smile.
"I am under the impression that it would have bought me a map if it had not been for your arrival, sir."