"I'll just take a pair of these pistols, Reddy," he said, relieving him
of the belt he had taken from Buckrow. "You don't need all those pistols,
now that Bucky is done for."

"But ye was to bear no arms, Thirkle," grinned Petrak.

"That's what I told Bucky, but you and me'll get along better than we did
with Bucky; and ye don't intend to hold me to that--do ye, Red?"

"I was only joking a bit, Thirkle. We're together now on the split, ain't
we? Well, friends don't have to make such agreements. I sail with you,
and you sail with me; and no articles signed beyond that, I say. What,
Thirkle?"

"That's what. Have another drink, Red. That was a good job ye did for me
with Bucky, even if he did play you mean."

"He was a bad one, all right," agreed Petrak, wiping his mouth and giving
Thirkle the bottle. "Bad Buckrow they called him when I first knew him,
and bad he was to the end; but I never looked to give to him, leastwise
not the way I did, in a hole like that. Howsome it be, I don't stand for
no smash in the mouth like he give me--ain't that right, Thirkle?"

"Right you are, but it's time we had this stuff cleaned up now. You and
Mr. Trenholm set at it while I put Bucky under ground."

Petrak and I resumed the work of carrying the sacks into the crevice,
while Thirkle busied himself at digging a grave in the soft sand near the
place they had deposited Buckrow's body. The little red-headed man began
to whistle a music-hall tune softly, but Thirkle cautioned him against
making any unnecessary noise.

I was in an agony from my cramped position, and tugging at the sacks
served to increase my torture. The tangle of ropes which Buckrow had put
on my ankles caught in loose stones and chafed the flesh until the blood
came; and my wrists, pulled down with tight knots, which I had to strain
against to keep my balance, throbbed and pained and tingled, my arms
being numbed by the blood in the bound arteries.

Petrak kept before me, with the sacks between us, and his bloody knife
pulled to the front of his belt. After he had stowed each sack he helped
me back out, or assisted me to turn, which was always a hard task for me.

If I let my end of the sack slip out of my fingers he was ready for me
with knife or pistol, so there was no opportunity to take a pistol or
knife from him, even if I had not been helplessly hobbled.

"Mind ye don't try any monkey-business with me," he warned the second
time we went in. "If ye do, I'll