His intention was obvious. Black Jack stopped him, with
an oath.
"You see here, Dutchy," he bawled, "mebby you think you'll wash his face
with that, but you won't. A contract's a contract. We agreed to take out
these trees and leave him for you to dispose of whatever way you please,
provided you shut him up eternally on this deal. But I'll not see a tied
man tormented by a fellow that he can lick up the ground with, loose,
and that's flat. It raises my gorge to think what he'll get when we're
gone, but you needn't think you're free to begin before. Don't you lay a
hand on him while I'm here! What do you say, boys?"
"I say yes," growled one of McLean's latest deserters. "What's more,
we're a pack of fools to risk the dirty work of silencing him. You had
him face down and you on his back; why the hell didn't you cover his
head and roll him into the bushes until we were gone? When I went into
this, I didn't understand that he was to see all of us and that there
was murder on the ticket. I'm not up to it. I don't mind lifting trees
we came for, but I'm cursed if I want blood on my hands.
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