“She went down,” I said, knowing that my time would be short if they knew the steamer was still above water, for every minute it lay on the reef there was a possibility that it would be sighted by some passing vessel.  I knew that if I told them it was still there Buckrow would probably murder Thirkle and me and hasten away, either to burn the vessel or escape in the boats.

“And how did you get away, and where is Riggs?” persisted Thirkle.

“I cut away the forecastle scuttle with a knife and crawled through the chains just as she went down, but Captain Riggs could not get out.”

“That’s all very fine,” said Thirkle; “but you collected a good deal of hardware out of a sinking ship.  How come you with four pistols?  And, if my eyes serve me right, two of those belonged to Long Jim.”

Petrak winked at me at this, and I took the cue.

“I found Long Jim dead in the trail and took his two pistols, and the others were my own which I had when I went into the forecastle, and I had hoped to use them on some of you fellows, but you got the better of me.”

“And how did you and Captain Riggs get along together?”

“We did very well after I had convinced him that I had no hand in the murder of Trego.  You gentlemen certainly know your business, I must say.”

“Oh, don’t include me in the compliment,” said Thirkle, bowing to Buckrow and Petrak.  “These are the men who are entitled to the credit for the success of the expedition so far, and, now that they have the gold, they have decided to dispense with my services; and, whatever is done, I will have no further hand in it.

“We will wish them luck, my dear Mr. Trenholm; and, as we are in the same boat now, I trust that what little animosity you may have borne against me in the past can now be forgotten.  Mr. Buckrow has the game in his hands now.”

“Ye say the Kut Sang went down clean?” asked Buckrow.

“Not a sign of her,” I said.  “Captain Riggs and the black boy went with her, and I hadn’t a minute to spare.  Perhaps it would have been just as well if I had gone with her, too.”

“Good!” exclaimed Thirkle.  “You see, Buckrow, I told ye she’d go like a lead and bury her truck.  I knew it would be a clean job, and now ye can go ahead—­I quit.”

“Small thanks to you,” growled Buckrow.

“Fine pair of fools ye’ll make!” laughed Thirkle.

“Stretch me, and the two of ye’ll hang.  Remember that, Reddy!  The two of ye’ll hang.  It took Thirkle to plan the job, and it’ll take Thirkle to finish it.  Mr. Petrak, will you kindly look in my jacket-pocket over there; there’s a bottle in it, and I’d like a bit of stimulant.”

Buckrow and Petrak ran for the bottle, and both took a long pull at it.

“Give Thirkle a bit,” said Petrak, who still seemed to have a good deal of respect for the prisoner.  “That was a nasty smash ye give ’im, Bucky.”