Immediately there was a hail from below. It was Ward's
voice.
"Surrenderin', eh? Comin' to your senses, are you?" he
shouted.
Divine, feeling that immediate danger from bullets was past,
raised his head above the edge of the earthwork.
"We have something to communicate, Mr. Ward," he called.
"Spit it out, then; I'm a-listenin'," called back the mate.
"Miss Harding, Mr. Theriere, Byrne, Miller, and Swenson
have been captured and killed by native head-hunters," said
Divine.
Ward's eyes went wide, and he blew out his cheeks in
surprise. Then his face went black with an angry scowl.
"You see what you done now, you blitherin' fools, you!"
he cried, "with your funny business? You gone an' killed the
goose what laid the golden eggs. Thought you'd get it all,
didn't you? and now nobody won't get nothin', unless it is the
halter. Nice lot o' numbskulls you be, an' whimperin' 'round
now expectin' of us to take you back--well, I reckon not, not
on your measly lives," and with that he raised his revolver to
fire again at Divine.
The society man toppled over backward into the pit behind
the breastwork before Ward had a chance to pull the trigger.
"Hol' on there mate!" cried Bony Sawyer; "there ain't no
call now fer gettin' excited.
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