Chapter XII Scotching a Snake
James Strong was lying half waking and half sleeping, his rifle at his side; he saw us instantly, however, as we stepped into the firelight, and was on his feet in a moment, dragging his rifle up with him.
“Drop the gun, James Strong,” said Henderson, “and put up your hands. I am covering you, you see, and this is not the revolver you choked. Drop it at once, or I fire. I will count three. One—two”—Strong let the rifle fall. Neither the thud of this nor the sound of Jack’s voice awoke the other two, who still slept, I covering them with my rifle.
“Pick that thing up, Peter,” said Jack. “I’ll see to the covering.” I did as my captain bade me.
“Chuck it on the fire,” he continued. “I shall pay you for it, Mr. Strong, but I am afraid you are scarcely to be trusted with a rifle just at present.”
I heard Strong grind his teeth as I picked up his gun, took the cartridges out, and threw the weapon on the fire.
“Sit down, Mr. Strong, and empty your pockets,” continued Jack, and his victim obeyed, because he could do nothing else.
“Take those other rifles, Peter, and do the same by them,” pursued Jack; “then wake those fellows, and see if they sport revolvers. Have you none, Mr. Strong? Come, produce it if you have. Feel his pockets, Peter, and his saddle-bags. What, has he none? Well, you shall give him yours, Peter, one day; perhaps he will know how to get the lead out since he put it in!”
Strong’s face through all this was not a pleasant study.
I obeyed Jack’s decrees to the letter. I collected all the weapons—three rifles and one revolver—and threw them on the fire; I awoke the two sleepers, who swore frightful oaths when they realised the position of affairs, and cleared their pockets and wallets and saddle-bags of cartridges, all of which I confiscated.
“Good-night, gentlemen,” said Jack, when my work was finished. “I shall repay you for all that has been taken from you to-night. Your zeal, you will understand, has been a little too great; you have given yourselves away. But for your premature attempt to rid yourselves of us on the island, and for one or two foolish matters since then, we might never have been aroused to our danger, and you would certainly have enjoyed many opportunities of shooting us at your leisure—in the back, of course. Now, you see, we have the whip hand of you.”
“And you will use it, curse you,” said James Strong, “to prevent us taking our legal share in the search for my uncle’s property. I know you!”
“Nothing of the kind, my good man,” said Jack cordially. “Dig away, by all means; you shall see that neither of us will interfere.”
“Yes, and if we find the treasure, you will shoot us down; I know you, I say!” replied Strong. We made allowance for his temper, which was shocking to-day; but then his provocation had really been considerable.
“If you find the treasure you shall take it away with you in peace, so far as my friend and myself are concerned,” said Jack. “We shall not shoot you, and you can’t very well shoot us without rifles, can you? Good-night all; come, Peter.”
We could see our good friends frenziedly poking among the embers for their burning weapons the moment we had departed; but, as Jack remarked, they were welcome to the barrels, and since he had taken care to keep up the conversation long enough to allow the woodwork to burn away, that would be all they would get.
Returning to our camp, we made up a fire for ourselves and tossed up for first sleep, for we must keep a stricter watch than ever now, or these desperate fellows would steal our weapons and turn the tables upon us. So we slept and watched by turns until morning, and it was on this night that I heard for the first time in my life the roar of a lion. It was not very near at hand, but, far away as it was, it sounded terrible enough to the inexperienced ear, and I thought over all I had read of the ways of lions in the works of Mr. Selous and other African sportsmen, and recalled an awkward propensity some of them have of coolly coming into camp and foraging among the waggons even in the glare of the firelight. If this brute were to come now and help itself to Jack Henderson before I could interfere, what a truly terrible thing it would be! The idea impressed me so deeply that I awoke Henderson and told him there was a lion roaring somewhere within hearing.
Jack was very sleepy, and my watch was only half over, which made him ridiculously angry to have been awaked.
“Well, what then?” he said. “Let him roar and be hanged! if he didn’t wake me, why should you?”
“Why, he might come and bag you while you slept,” I said; “travellers say they do that kind of thing.”
“Well, what are you there for, man?” said Jack angrily, settling himself to sleep again. “You are there to shoot James Strong, or lions, or she-bears, or anything else that comes and plays the fool around here. For goodness’ sake don’t wake a fellow to talk about the habits of lions—shoot him if he comes, that’s all you have to do!”
I suppose the lion had other engagements for that night, for his roars receded farther away and were lost, presently, in the distance.
We were up in the morning at the first glint of light, for we were naturally anxious to see the ground upon which our labours were to be lavished until the envious soil should reveal to us or the others the secret of old Clutterbuck. There it was, the open space of sandy hummocky soil, and there were the posts, three of them at least; we could not see the fourth. And there, too, was the upturned earth over a considerable area, representing the day’s work, or the day and a half’s work, of the Strongs, who had evidently toiled for all they were worth in order to make the most of the start they had gained upon us. The result of this haste on their part was to be seen in the shallowness of their digging, which appeared to have nowhere extended to a greater depth than six to nine inches. As we stood and surveyed the ground, our three friends came with their spades and set to work at once. They scowled at us ferociously, but made no reply to Jack’s polite “Good-morning.”
“I daresay they are rather annoyed with us,” said Jack. “Now, Peter, don’t be lazy, but begin to dig at once. I’m your bodyguard, remember, and shall do no work except thinking.”
“Aren’t you going to dig?” I said.
“Certainly not,” said Jack; “I’m not one of the authorised. If I dug and found the treasure, there might be a legal point. Now dig up, man, and don’t argue; you’re wasting your time. Think of the nuggets and diamonds only awaiting the magic touch of your spade! George! if I had a legal position, wouldn’t I dig!”
I did dig. I dug that morning until the sweat poured from my face and head like drops of rain. I dug till my arms and back ached so that I almost cried with the pain, while Jack sat or lay and watched, keeping an eye on the Strong party and entertaining me with light conversation. By the evening I was perfectly exhausted, and the greater part of the space of about two acres had been dug over, though not to any great depth, by one or other of the four workers, yet nothing had been discovered.
When Jack awoke me to take my watch at half-time that night, he said—
“Peter, I’ve been thinking.”
“What about?” I asked sleepily.
“About that fourth post,” he said.