The Face in the Abyss | Page 8

'My hero!' she say, 'take all I have and give up this bad company.' 'No, no,' he tell her, t'inking all the time if he play his cards right he get much more, and us out of the way so he need not divide, 'no, no,' he tell her. 'But long as these bad men stay here you will not be safe.' 'My hero,' she say. 'I will go and bring back my family and they shall dispose of your bad company. But you they shall reward, my hero, oui!' Aha, so that is what it was!"
Graydon flushed; the little Frenchman's malicious travesty had shot uncomfortably close. After all, Suarra's unasked promise to save him could be construed as Dancret had suggested. Suppose he told them he had warned her that whatever the fate in store for them he was determined to share it, and would stand by them to the last? They would not believe him.
Soames had been watching him, closely.
"By God, Danc'," he said, "I guess you hit it He changed color. He's sold us out."
He .raised his automatic, held it on Graydon--then lowered it.
"No," he said, deliberately. "This is too big a thing to let slip by bein' too quick on the trigger. If your dope is.right, Dane', and I guess it is, the lady was mighty grateful. All right--we ain't got her, but we have got him. As I figure it, bein' grateful, she won't want him to get killed. She'll be back. Well, we'll trade him for what they got that we want. Tie him up."
He pointed the pistol at Graydon. Unresisting, Graydon let Starrett and Dancret bind his wrists. They pushed him over to one of the trees and sat him on the ground with his
back against its bole. They passed a rope under his arms and hitched it securely around the trunk; they tied his feet.
"Now," said Soames, "if her gang show up in the morning, well let 'em see you, and find out how much you're worth. They won't rush us. There's bound to be a palaver. And if they don't come to terms--well, Graydon, the first bullet out of this gun goes through your guts. That'll give you time to see what we do to her before you die."
Graydon did not answer him. He knew that nothing he might say would change them from their purpose. He made himself as comfortable as possible, and closed his eyes. Once or twice he opened them, and looked at the others. They sat beside the fire, heads dose together, talking in whispers, their faces tense, and eyes feverish with
the treasure lust. After a while Graydon's head dropped forward. He slept.
CHAPTER III.
The White Llama
IT WAS DAWN when Graydon awakened.
Some one had thrown a blanket over him during the night, but he was, nevertheless, cold and stiff. He drew his legs up and down painfully, trying to start the sluggish blood. He heard the others stirring in the tent. He wondered which of them had thought of the blanket, and why he had been moved to that kindness.
Starrett lifted the tent flap, passed by him without a word and went on to the spring. He returned and busied himself, furtively, about the fire. Now and then he looked at the prisoner, but seemingly with neither anger nor resentment. He slipped at last to the tent, listened, then trod softly over to Graydon.
"Sorry about this," he muttered. "But I can't do anything with Soames and Dancret. Had a hard time persuading 'em even to let you have that blanket. Take a drink of this."
He pressed a flask to Graydon's lips. He took a liberal swallow; it warmed him.
"Sh-h," warned Starrett. "Don't bear any grudge. Drunk last night. I'll help you, if--" He broke off, abruptly;
busied himself with the burning logs. Out of the tent came Soames.
"I'm goin' to give you one last chance, Graydon," he began, without preliminary. "Come through clean with us on your dicker with the girl, and we'll take you back with us, and all work together and all share together. You had the edge on us yesterday, and I don't know that I blame
you. But it's three to one now and the plain truth is you can't get away with it. So why not be reasonable?"
"What's the use of going over all that again, Soames?" Graydon asked, wearily. "I've told you everything. If you're wise, you'll .let me loose, give me my guns and I'll fight for you when the trouble comes. For trouble is coming, man, sure--big trouble."
"Yeah!" snarled the New Englander. "Tryin' to scare us, are you? All right--there's a nice little trick of drivin' a wedge under each of your finger nails and a-keepin' drivin' 'em in. It makes 'most anybody talk after awhile. And if it don't, there's the