"He's just got the wind belted out
of him good and plenty. But somebody will get killed sure 'nough if
you bad men try any more knife tricks."
"You damn fool!" muttered the scarred man to his companion. "You left
that rifle in the canoe."
"They's only two of 'em; let's get 'em."
At that instant the captain moaned painfully.
"Anybody else want the same dose?" asked Higgins.
He and Payne stood poised on the balls of their feet, their fists
swinging, ready to hurl themselves forward to meet the expected rush.
The captain moaned again. The rush did not materialize.
"That's right," said Roger. "We've got no quarrel with you fellows."
"Who are you?"
"I told you--land buyers."
"What'd you butt in for?"
"Four on one, and you were kicking at him at that."
"Any business of yours?"
"We made it so. The next move is up to you."
"Licker!" groaned the captain. "Gimme drink--I'm dying."
One of the men made a movement toward his left hip pocket, but halted
guiltily.
"Ain't got no licker."
"Go ahead; give him some!" chuckled Higgins. "We aren't revenue men."
The man finally produced a bottle of colorless stuff, a stiff drink of
which brought the captain to his knees. A second drink and he was able
to rise to his feet.
"Moonshine, by the great smoked fish!" laughed Higgins.
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