Part 10 (2/2)

”And first of all pay back the scores we owe,” the rascal who had so recently fired at Jim growled. ”I've sworn to give back what I was given aboard that s.h.i.+p, and since I believe the young pup who was so free with his fists is staying on here, why, I'll finish him. Eh?”

His suggestion had met with the hearty approval of all. There was not a man in the gang who would not do the same; for to these lawless fellows a blow received demanded repayment. As to the risk, that was nothing.

They were accustomed to the feeling that their arrest was aimed at. If theft could pa.s.s without actual discovery, then a shot in the night, and the death of a white official, would equally escape detection.

”Five of them.” Jim counted them off on his fingers as he again raised his head. He squinted in through the corner of the window, and inspected each one of the gang separately. And now he recognized them not alone from the leaflet which he had seen, but from amongst the faces of the Spaniards who had been aboard the steamer. Of an evening he had often stood at the rail above and looked down into the waist of the vessel, watching the dusky faces of the Spaniards, and scenting the rank odour of the cigarettes they smoked. Features which then had made no great impression on him, but which had, unconsciously as it were, been tucked away within his memory, now struck him as familiar. Little by little he recollected exactly where he had seen each man, and what he had been doing, so that within the s.p.a.ce of a few minutes he was sure that every one of them had been aboard the steamer.

”And are now wanted by the police here,” he thought, ”while the fellow sitting at the far end of the table is wanted more than them all, seeing that he has attempted murder. But how to do it? There are five, and all probably carry arms.”

A second glance at the men persuaded him that there was little doubt on the last matter; for the leader of these ruffians had placed his weapon on the plank table before him, while a second was cleaning his revolver with a piece of dirty rag. A third wore a belt, as could be clearly seen, since he had discarded his coat, and carried both a revolver and a huge knife attached to it.

”Ugly fellows to deal with, I guess,” thought Jim. ”The question is this: ought we to attempt a rush? or ought we to set a watch on the house and send for the police?”

Obviously, with only three to help him, the last suggestion was the one to follow, and having pondered the matter for a little while Jim came to a decision. Peeping in at the window again, he watched the men as they rolled and lit cigarettes, or filled their gla.s.ses from the bottles on the table, then he crept away to Sam, and with him went to join Tom. A signal brought Ching to them promptly.

”Come away over here,” said Jim softly. ”I want to talk.”

He led them into a thick belt of bush which had escaped the billhooks of the Commission sanitary corps, for the reason that it stood on high ground, and then came to a halt.

”Wall?” asked Tom, his face indistinguishable in the darkness, but his tones eager. ”He's right there, I reckon. He only wants taking?”

”He's there; but for the moment we can't easily take him. Listen here,”

said Jim. Then he explained that there were five men in the hut, and that if he were right in his surmise, and his eyes had not misinformed him, they were a gang of criminals of whom the police were in search.

”And all armed,” he added. ”I thought at first that we might rush them; but even supposing they were not armed, one or more might escape. So I guessed the best plan would be to send off for the police, while we watch the place. Say, Sam, you could find the office in Colon?”

The little fellow nodded and gave a grunt of a.s.sent.

”Easy as cuttin' chips,” he said. ”What den?”

”Run there as fast as your legs will carry you, and tell them that we have located the gang of men whose portraits they have been circulating amongst the ca.n.a.l officials. Tell them of the attempt made to shoot me to-night, and warn them to come along cautiously. Get right off. We'll stand round the place till you come along.”

Sam set down his lantern at once and disappeared in the darkness, making hardly a sound as he went. Then Jim led the others back towards the hut.

”We'll take the same places,” he said. ”Of course, if they separate we shall have to follow; but I rather think they live here. If that's so we shall have them.”

Waiting till both Tom and Ching had taken up their positions he crept towards the hut, and, having reached the window, raised his head and peeped in. None of the men had moved. The ruffian who had been handling his revolver was still cleaning it with the dirty rag, while the man who had come that evening to the house which Phineas occupied, and had deliberately fired through the gauze window, was staring moodily at the empty gla.s.s before him. The others were engaged in an eager conversation, carried on in low tones. Jim put his ear as close as possible, for though he knew only a few words of Spanish it was possible that English was the language employed. Then he heard a sudden, startled cry, and, looking in, saw that the rascal at whose arrest he aimed had risen to his feet. The man was staring hard at the window, and in a flash Jim realized that his own presence had been discovered. He ducked swiftly, and as he did so there came the report of a pistol. An instant later a bullet smashed the gla.s.s just overhead, smothering him with debris. Then a babel of cries came from the hut, the door was dragged open, and in a trice five men had thrown themselves upon him.

CHAPTER VII

The Lair of the Robbers

There are times in a man's life when he has no spare moments in which to think, and this occasion may be said to have been one of those urgent periods in that of our hero. For he had no time to do more than move a yard from the window of the little hut located so close to Colon when the door was flung open, and the five ruffians within burst from their cover. Jim had hardly shaken the dust and debris of the shattered pane of gla.s.s from his eyes when one of the men was on him. It was Jaime de Oteros, the leader of the gang, a dark, forbidding-looking fellow, as agile as a cat, and a desperado accustomed to scenes of violence.

”A spy! a spy!” he bellowed, catching sight of Jim; for the lamp within the cottage cast its rays through the window and illumined his figure.

”Kill him! Down with him to the ground! Stamp on him!”

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