Petrak looked at Thirkle as if in doubt about Buckrow's sanity, and Thirkle gave him a look that seemed to me to be a message, and he made a furtive signal which I was not able to interpret.

"Steady as she goes, mates; steady as she goes," purred Thirkle. "This is no time to quarrel. We'll have a gunboat down on us if we don't get away soon, and there's a lot to do yet before we leave. Let Bucky alone, Red."

"Then ye and the writin' chap lay on and move lively," snarled Buckrow, and Thirkle had me take hold of a sack behind him, and, with him leading the way, we carried it into the miniature canon.

The sacks were heavy, but were bound with ropes which served as handles, and were not hard to move until we got into the narrow cleft, where I found that my shoulders b.u.mped along the walls as I swayed from side to side, or missed my footing on the damp, slippery ground.

Buckrow and Petrak followed us in with another sack, and when Thirkle had gone as far as he could he pulled our sack forward under his feet and stowed it in the angle where the walls joined. Then I had to pa.s.s the second sack on to him, taking it from Petrak, who was next to me, and then we turned in our tracks and went out again.

The brush on the top of the cliff overlapped the crevice, so that it was quite dark a few feet from the entrance. The walls were slippery with a thick, funguslike moss, from which cool water dripped.

"That gold will rust in here sure as a n.i.g.g.e.r's black," grumbled Buckrow, as he felt his way out. "I don't like this place at all."

"Best place on the island," whispered Thirkle. "Tell him it's the best place on the island, Reddy."

"It's the best place on the island, Bucky. I don't see as we could do better."

"I don't care what ye think of it; I say it'll rust in there," said Buckrow.

"You had better go in backward this time," said Thirkle. "You may find it a little harder, Mr. Trenholm; but perhaps it will be more convenient."

"What's that?" demanded Buckrow. "Who go in first?"

"It will be easier if Mr. Trenholm goes in first," said Thirkle. "He'll have to go backward, but he'll find it easier to navigate."

"Oh, no, he won't!" said Buckrow. "I see your game, Thirkle. Ye want to come out behind Mr. Petrak and borrow a gun. We'll let you go in first, and the writin' chap can come out atween ye and Petrak. Don't come none of them games on me, Thirkle. I'm too old a fish."

We went in with the second lot of sacks in the same order, but I saw another exchange of signals between Thirkle and Petrak before we stooped for our burdens.

Before we had gone ten feet inside the crevice Thirkle coughed, and Petrak, close behind him said: "Gold don't rust."

"I say it do," declared Buckrow. "Six months' time in here'll have this stuff with whiskers on it like a Singapore tramp that hasn't been docked in a dog's age."

"I say gold don't rust," persisted Petrak. "How about it, Thirkle? Does gold rust? I say it don't, and Bucky says it do."

"You're right, Reddy, but don't quarrel now," said Thirkle. "It won't rust because gold doesn't rust."

"I don't give a tinker's hang what Thirkle says!" cried Buckrow, throwing down his end of the sack. "I'm here to say gold will rust if it's kept wet, and that's an end of it. Gold do rust, Thirkle or no Thirkle, and I say it."

"All right," agreed Reddy. "Lay on, Bucky, and let's get this job over and done with!"

"White-livered little fool!" I heard Thirkle mutter. "He doesn't dare do it!"

I heard Petrak and Buckrow coming on, and we were soon at the end of the black hole.

"This is a fine place, lads," said Thirkle. "It will keep in here as well as if buried in white, dry sand."

"Maybe it will and maybe it won't," growled Buckrow. "I don't call no wet hole like this fine, and never did, and I'm minded to bury the rest of it outside."

"Never a bit of hurt in the water, Bucky," said Petrak cheerily. "We'll put many of these shiners over the bar of the Flag and Anchor, Bucky, and have many a pipe over our drink."

"Ye don't catch me in no Flag and Anchor. I'll have my drop of liquor in the Flagship and you can go to the devil for yours, for all I mind. What if this blasted hole closes up some day? What then? It'll be a fine place then, no doubt. Hey, Mr. Thirkle? What then?"

"No fear of that," said Thirkle. "It's wider at the top than at the bottom, and the tops hang away. I looked into all that when I decided to put it in here. There isn't as much water as ye think, Bucky; and it's under foot what there is of it, and, the way we've got it stowed here, one atop of the other, only the bottom one'll be very wet--and gold don't rust."

"These guineas will be thick with scale, and ye'll need a chipping hammer to clean 'em when ye have 'em outside again. Ye talk about folks bein'

suspicious of gold, but I say they're quicker to turn up their noses and say things about gold that's been stowed in the wet and turned black."

"But gold don't rust, Bucky. That's sure--gold don't rust," said Petrak.

"That's all very well: but I mind when I dropped half a crown in a pool back home, and in a fortnight it was thick as my hand. Think I'm a fool?

I know what I'm talkin' about, if ye don't. Go ahead and side with Thirkle if ye like."

"That was silver, Bucky. Gold don't rust like that. I always knew gold don't rust, and now Thirkle says it don't, and Thirkle knows, as he always did. Mind we always asked Thirkle?"

"I'm not asking him any more if ye want to know, vote or no vote. My vote is as good as Thirkle's, and it's good as yours; and ye can side with him if ye want."

"But gold don't rust," said Petrak mockingly.

"Ye think I'm a fool?" shrieked Buckrow, turning on Petrak. He was nearest the outside, and I could see his figure silhouetted against the light at the entrance. He stooped down and put his face close to Petrak.

"Fool or not, gold don't rust, I'm telling ye Buck--"

"Then take that from a fool!" And Buckrow struck him square in the face with his fist, hurling him back on my shoulders, so that I fell forward on my hands.

"That's rotten mean, Bucky," I heard Petrak whining. "That's rotten mean in here in the dark, Bucky."

"That _is_ rotten mean, Petrak," said Thirkle indignantly. "I wouldn't stand for that if I were you."

"Oh, ye wouldn't, hey? Well, we'll see what ye stand for soon's ye come out into the clear--that's what we'll see, Thirkle."

"It's rotten mean," whimpered Petrak. "I wouldn't do the likes o' that to ye, Bucky; not if ye never agreed along with me--it's rotten mean."

"Ye'll get worse as that is. Now, does gold rust, ye little runt? Say it!

Does gold rust?"

"That's hardly fair, Bucky," said Thirkle. "That's hardly fair on the little chap after he's stood by ye so long."

"Fair enough for me, Thirkle, and fair enough for ye it'll be when ye come out."

"What do ye mean by that, Buck?" demanded Thirkle, speaking over my shoulder; and then he whispered to Petrak: "Give it to him, Red--now's yer chance. Quick, lad!"

"Soon enough ye'll find out what I mean, Thirkle; that's what. If the two of ye think yer going to side together ag'in' me, well and good; but look out for Bad Buckrow, I say. I'll make my meanin' blasted clear, too. Mind that."

"My jaw's broke!" cried Petrak, struggling to his feet, breathing hard.

Then without warning he sprang on Buckrow's back with a snarl like an animal, and the two of them went down in the narrow pa.s.sage.

"Gawd a'mighty!" screamed Buckrow, with every bit of air in his lungs, and I heard Petrak strike again.