le 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."

"That would do for him nicely, Reddy. We'll let him push the boat well
out, and, when he has her clear, pull away and give him plenty of line.
That's a capital idea, Reddy, and we'll use it."

They bound my arms to my sides, and put the end of the rope round
Petrak's waist, so that I was about five feet behind him when it was
taut. In this way we set out for the beach, with Petrak in the lead and
Thirkle, carrying his bundle and smoking a cigar, treading on my heels,
to make me keep close up.

The sun was not quite down, but the jungle was filling with shadows, and,
once the sun got below the horizon, night would close down on us with the
tropical swiftness that knows no twilight, and the day would go out like
a candle under a snuffer.

Thirkle had been drinking of the brandy, and was in a jolly mood, and he
had given Petrak a good swig of it to lighten the little rascal's feet,
but I refused the bottle when it was offered to me, for, low as my
spirits were, and racked as my body was, I could not come to accept their
ghastly hospitality.

If I let the rope tighten between me and Petrak, Thirkle prodded me with
the point of a knife, and, as I was faint with hunger and