Part 27 (2/2)
Ruth stole a stealthy glance at Chess. She saw that he had moved. He was lying with his right hand covered by his body. There seemed an alertness about him--in posture and in gleaming, half-closed eyes--that startled Ruth. What had the young fellow in his mind to do. For what was he waiting?
In a minute she heard the ring of quick steps upon the rock-floor of the tunnel.
Ruth shrank away from the table and stood at her companion's head. What would the newcomers--Bilby, perhaps--do to Copley and to her?
And it was Bilby! The little, red-faced, greenish-eyed man, projected himself into the cavern as though he had been shot out of a gun.
”What's the matter here? What's going on, I want to know? That crazy-head is trying to tell me something--Ye G.o.ds! A girl?”
He saw Ruth vaguely. Then he glanced down at the prostrate Copley.
”Who knocked him out?” demanded Bilby.
The burly Chinaman was the one he addressed, who answered in a form of English:
”Allee same me. I get um, Mist' Blibly.”
”For mercy's sake!” whined Bilby, wringing his fat hands. ”These people aren't police. They are some of the summer visitors. Now we _are_ in a mess!”
”Allee same look-see,” growled the Chinaman. He kicked Chessleigh, and not gently. ”Number one sneakee--him! She----”
He nodded violently toward Ruth, thus drawing Bilby's attention to the girl. Bilby strained his fat neck forward to see the girl more closely.
There were other sounds coming from the pa.s.sage.
”What's doing, Mr Bilby?” asked a gruff voice.
The fat little man was panting. He pointed waveringly at Ruth.
”Here's a pretty mess,” he gasped. ”What between these c.h.i.n.ks and that crazy old duffer, they have got me in a nice mess. I know this girl. She belongs to that moving picture outfit. Now what are we going to do?”
”Knock her in the head,” was the advice of the growling voice.
The advice probably was not intended to be followed. It was said perhaps to scare Ruth. But it excited somebody else besides the girl of the Red Mill.
Before Bilby could reply or anybody else could speak, Copley came to his feet with all the suddenness of a jumping-jack. Bilby squealed and started back, falling against the gruff man who had followed him into the cave and who was evidently the boatman.
”What's this?” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed this man.
But that was all he said. The Chinamen squealed in unison, and that was all from them. Bilby himself faintly groaned.
”Put your hands up--all of you!” commanded Copley, and one of the most amazing things about the whole wild extravaganza was that the young fellow's voice was perfectly unshaken.
Lads that have been in the army are apt to consider circ.u.mstances like these as meat and drink to them. Chessleigh had not served Uncle Sam in vain. He was as cool as the proverbial cuc.u.mber!
”Put your hands up--all of you! There are ten shots in this magazine and every one of them will get its man. Quick! Up with 'em!”
In all probability only one of the Chinamen understood this strictly American form of expression. But when the burly Chinaman elevated his yellow hands, his fellow countrymen did the same.
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