Part 32 (2/2)
”Stand still and keep your mouth shut, or I'll drill a hole through you.
You're safe if you do as I tell you, Crust. I'm onto your little game.
I'm not saying you are the guilty man, but you know who he is,--and it won't work.”
Manuel Crust was as rigid as a block of stone. He did not even turn his head to look into the face of the man who held him.
Michael Malone and Landover were at Percival's side in an instant. From their position on the steps they could see what was not visible to the crowd beyond,--the revolver that was pressed against the small of Crust's back.
”Cover this man,” whispered Percival to Malone. ”Shoot if he opens his mouth.”
Malone's revolver was jammed against the ”Portugee's” back, and Percival sprang back up the steps.
Manuel Crust shot a look of surprise at Abel Landover.
”What the h.e.l.l--” he began, but choked off the words at a command from Malone. While Percival was rapidly calling out orders from above, he broke out recklessly again, addressing the stern-faced banker.
”Are you my friend or not?” he snarled. ”What kind of a man are you?
Speak up! Tell them I'm all right.”
”Keep quiet,” warned Malone.
Landover's eyes met the searching, questioning gaze of the Portuguese.
Manuel Crust apparently was satisfied with what he read in them, for a quick gleam of confidence leaped into his own. His chest swelled with a tremendous intake of breath.
The remarkable personality,--or perhaps the magnetism,--of the ”boss,”
again a.s.serted itself. He made no allusion to the thing uppermost in his mind as he spoke hurriedly, emphatically to the tense throng. When he directed Randolph Fitts to take a few picked men with him up into the woods to bring down the captive, there were mutterings but no move on the part of the crowd either to antic.i.p.ate or to follow the detachment.
A few terse words to Buck Chizler sent that active young man after Fitts, the bearer of instructions. Sancho Mendez was to be brought in alive. His guards were not to be given a chance to kill him when they realized that the scheme had failed and he would be allowed to tell his own story.
With the departure of Fitts and his men, Percival ordered the people to return to their cabins. He promised them that Sancho Mendez should have his just deserts. Slowly, reluctantly the crowd broke up and shuffled away in small groups across the dewy Green. Manuel Crust was free to go. The few words that pa.s.sed between Landover and Percival, although unheard by the man, sufficed to put courage back into his heart. He had come to look upon the banker as his ”pal”! And his ”pal” had not failed him!
This is what Landover said to Percival:
”Whatever may be in your mind, Percival, I want to say this to you. I was in Manuel Crust's cabin when the thing happened. There were eight of us there. I can point out to you the other six. I must beg you to overlook the fact that we are not friends, and believe what I am saying.
It is the absolute truth.”
”I will take your word for it, Mr. Landover,” said Percival, after a moment. ”I am aware of your dealings with Crust and his crowd. I don't know what the game is, but I do know that you have been fostering discontent,--it may even amount to revolt,--among; these men. If you say you were with Crust and that he was not out of your sight all evening, I will believe you. You may be a misguided, domineering fool, Mr.
Landover, but you are honest. You have failed to appreciate what you were stirring up,--what you were letting yourself and all the rest of us in for, that's all.”
Landover flushed. He compressed his lips for a second or two before speaking.
”My opposition to you as a dictator, Percival, hardly warrants the implication that I am in a sense responsible for the devilish thing that happened last night.”
”I grant you that,” said Percival. ”Nevertheless, it is your purpose to down me, no matter what it costs,--isn't that true?”
”No, it is not true. There is an honest, sincere belief on the part of some of us that you are not the man to rule this camp. You may call it politics, if you like,--or revolt, if you prefer.”
”We'll call it politics, Mr. Landover. It was not politics that made me the superintendent of construction here, however. I've looked after the job to the best of my ability. I am ready to retire whenever the people decide they've found a better man. You may be right in supposing that Manuel Crust is the right man for the job,--but I don't agree with you.”
Landover started. ”Nothing is farther from my thoughts than to turn the affairs of this camp over to Crust,” he said.
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