“I’ll stick like paint, Thirkle; lay to that,” said Petrak, grinning at me.  “I knew he was on the wrong course when he come that gun talk to me, and I told him Thirkle was all right, and that I knowed ye better than him, and so I do—­hey, Thirkle?”

“You had better give me your pistols until you are done, Reddy.  Ye can’t trust these gentlemen who write—­they have too much imagination, and they are too foxy for men like you and me, Reddy.  There’s no telling what he might do in there if you have guns and knives on ye.  Pass ’em over, Reddy, or he’ll do for us yet.”

Petrak gave up his weapons joyfully, not realizing that he was being disarmed for the very purpose I had warned him about—­Thirkle was getting ready to finish his job in earnest.

“Now get along and dump the last of it in there, and move navy style or we’ll be here at dark.  No more soldiering, Petrak:  and see that ye keep yer jaw battened down, Mr. Trenholm, or I’ll take a hand in this that ye won’t relish and attend to ye in a way ye won’t fancy.”

“Ye’ll play fair with me, won’t ye, Thirkle?” asked Petrak.

“Fair as ye deserve.  Move along with that cargo.”

Petrak began to whine to himself, and I said nothing more until we went in with the last sack.

“You fool, he’ll kill you as I told you he would, but you are too late now.”

“Oh, Thirkle’s all right,” he grumbled; but he seemed worried since he had given up the pistols, and he saw plainly enough that Thirkle’s manner had changed in no undecided way since Petrak had surrendered his weapons.

“All clear,” said Thirkle, as we came out.  He was measuring rope, and had his jacket on and a bundle rolled up, and all the camp litter was removed and dead leaves scattered over our tracks.

“Can I have my guns now, Thirkle?  I don’t like to go down the trail without a gun—­no knowin’ what might happen.”

“Never would do yet, Reddy.  Take this knife and cut the lines away from Mr. Trenholm’s feet, and we’ll fix him so he can navigate back to the boats.  You take the lead back, Reddy, because you know the way better than I do, and I’ll make Mr. Trenholm fast to ye, and follow on.  We’ll need to look sharp to make the beach before dark.”

“But I want my guns, Thirkle.  Fair play’s fair play, and I want my guns.”

“Never mind the guns, I say.  Mr. Trenholm will be right at your back all the way down, and we can’t take any chances now, Reddy.  I’ll settle him when the boats are off, and then you won’t have anything to worry about.  Cut his feet loose.”

“What style of a funeral would suit him?” asked Petrak, busy with the cords at my feet.

“We’ll have to select something special for Mr. Trenholm.  How about the same go-off we gave Caldish?  Remember Caldish?  Wanted to say his prayers.  Quick and neat it was, and no mess.”

“If he helps with the boats, how about a tow out at the end of a painter, Thirkle?  He’ll make good shark bait, only some skinny.”