“Of course he will if we stand here and argue about it until it is too late!” I stormed at him.  “Pass me a gun—­don’t be a fool, Reddy.  Quick!  Cut these ropes from my hands and give me a pistol and let me show you how to draw your Mr. Thirkle’s teeth!”

CHAPTER XX

THE LAST

“What’s all this social chatter between you two?” demanded Thirkle from the entrance to the crevice.  I did not know how much he had overheard, but I determined to make one more effort to get the pistol.

“Quick,” I whispered to Petrak.  “Hand me the gun and free my hands!”

“It ain’t me,” whined Petrak.  “It’s the writin’ chap here.  Get along out,” and he struck me over the head and I knew I had lost, although there was a doubt that Petrak would ever have given me the pistol.

“What’s he up to now, Reddy?  What’s the nice young man trying to do?”

“Wanted to do for ye, that’s what, Thirkle.  Wanted a gun, but he got no gun from me.  Said you wouldn’t play fair with me, Thirkle, but I said ye would.”

“So ye want to take a hand in things here, do you, Mr. Trenholm?” said Thirkle as I came out.  “Still got an idea you can beat old Thirkle at his own game.  Learning new tricks, I see.  Before long ye’d be ready to boss the job.  Didn’t take ye long to forget what I told ye of the other smart chap who wanted to settle me and take command himself, did it?”

“You stick to your pen and typewriter, Mr. Trenholm, and let me run my own crew—­nice pirate ye’d make, with silk underwear and a typewriter,” and he and Petrak laughed loudly at the joke,

“I told him you would kill him, and so you will,” I said, mustering as much defiance as I could under the circumstances.

“Kill Mr. Petrak here!  Ha, ha, ha!  Why, he’s my partner, Mr. Petrak is, and we’re going to share this gold together, share and share alike, as gentlemen do.”

“He wanted to do for ye, Thirkle,” said Petrak, flattered by his master and unable to see the sly sarcasm of Thirkle in his joy at being assured of his position, and of getting his share of the gold.  “I never give him the chance, Thirkle.  Now if it was some—­say Buckrow or Long Jim, they might give him a gun, but not Petrak.  Ye know I ain’t the kind to turn on a pal, Thirkle, and I say you stick to me and I’ll stick to you, come what do.  Ain’t that right, Thirkle?”

“Reddy, yer true blue,” and he took Petrak’s hand and shook it vigorously, and patted the little rat on the back.  “Stick to Thirkle and Thirkle will stick to you like a Dutch uncle, and never mind what Mr. Trenholm has to say.  He’s not in this, or won’t be long, and it won’t be many days before we are counting out the gold between us.

“I’ve got enough five-pound notes here to buy the little yacht, and I’ll take some of the gold, but not much.  We’ll be back here before the month is out, all slick and snug, and then away for London.”