be seven o' us
outsiders; an' when I tell the others what I've tolt you, they'll be all
on our side--if they an't the foolishest o' fools."

"They won't be that, I take it. A difference of twenty thousand dollars
or so in their favour, will make them sensible enough. But what's to be
the upshot, or, as they call it in the theatre play-bills, what's the
programme!"

"Well, mate, so far as I've been put up to it, we're to run on till we
get to the coast, somewheer near the Issmus o' Panyma. Theer we'll
sight land, and soon's we do, the ship's to be scuttled--we first
securin' the swag,' an' takin' it ashore in one o' the boats. We're to
land on some part o' the coast that's known to Gomez, he says. Then
we're to make for some town, when we've got things straight for puttin'
in appearance in a explainable way. Otherways, we might get pulled up,
an' all our trouble 'ud be for nowt. Worse, every man-Jack on us 'ud
have a good chance to swing for it."

"And the young ladies?"

"They're to go along wi' Gomez an' Hernandez. How they mean to manage
it, I can't tell ye. They'll be a trouble, no doubt, as allers is wi'
weemen, an' it be a pity we're hampered wi' 'em; mor'n that, it's
reg'lar dangersome. They may get the hul kit o' us into a scrape.
Howsever, we'll hev to take our chances, since theer's no help for it.
The two chaps 'pear to be reg'lar struck with 'em. Well, let 'em carry
off the gurls an' welcome. But, as I've sayed, thet oughter make 'em
less objectin' to a fair divide o' the dust."

"What's to be done with the others--the old Spaniard and skipper, with
the black cook and first mate?"

"They're to go down wi' the ship. The intenshun is, to knock all o' 'em
on the head, soon's we come in sight o' land."

"Well, Jack, for the first three I don't care a brass farthing. They're
foreigners and blacks; therefore, nothing to us. But, as Blew chances
to be a countryman of ours, I'd rather it didn't go so hard with him."

"Balderdash, Bill Davis! What have you or me to do wi' feelins o' that
sort? Countryman, indeed! A fine country, as starves ten millions o'
the like o' us two; an' if we try to take what by nateral right's our
own, sends us out o' it wi' handcuffs round our wrists, an' iron
jewellery on our ankles! All stuff an' psalm-singin' that 'bout one's
own country, an' fella-countryman. If we let him off, we might meet him
somewhere, when we an't a-wantin' to. He'll have to be sarved