The H. Bedford-Jones Pulp Fiction Megapack. H. Bedford-Jones

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The H. Bedford-Jones Pulp Fiction Megapack - H. Bedford-Jones

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ye before your men wake up.”

      Schneider! That was a new worry. I had thought Schneider in the discard, but evidently O’Grady thought otherwise.

      He left me, sang out a cheery order to his men, and the whole train of them vanished into the darkness. The wind was beginning to whistle now, and the raindrops pattered more thickly on the tent.

      Having already convinced myself thoroughly that any exertion toward loosening my bonds would be only futile and wasted effort, I sat quietly and set myself to wait for the dawn, which could not be more than an hour or so away. The lantern was high and out of reach, even had I been inclined to burn my bonds, which I was not; they were leather thongs, and I was certainly no Scaevola. So I sat staring out at the flickering light of the fire, and the obscure, motionless figures about it.

      How the luck had played against me! I cherished no particular resentment against O’Grady for his use of me and his betrayal of me; all that, in a way, was part of the game, as I could now see. He had been very clever, and I had been an ass; although I could scarce have been expected to suspect a man of his type being in Japanese hire. I wondered what James Sze Kohler would say about it when he heard the story.

      The element of luck, however, had broken against me when Janet French came on the scene. Had she come five minutes earlier, O’Grady’s fine little scheme might have been disarranged entirely. As it was, everything now lay plainly ahead of him—clear sailing!

      Her words showed that French had been hoping for some messenger from Kohler.

      “Probably the Japs have been watching the mail through their own postal service here,” I reflected. “Any letters that French had sent out, were probably held up and destroyed. It looks to me as though Kohler had for once slipped up rather badly. Even if I get through to Kiuling by some miracle, I haven’t a single thing to back up my word! How will French know that I come from Kohler? Damn it!”

      Everything fitted in very nicely for that confounded Irishman. He would get to Kiuling and would promptly take care of French’s injuries, and would as promptly buy the lac secret from the grateful man. But was that formula all of it? I began to doubt. Even as a trade secret, it was not a big enough thing to justify all the expenditure of money and effort that was being put forth in three quarters.

      One good thing, O’Grady was straight. If it had been Schneider, now, I might have been worried; the Dubonnet agent would have used Miss Janet to force the secret out of French, or some such trick. I was thankful that, if I had to be beaten, the licking would come from a man like O’Grady. I was not through with him, either; after leaving Kiuling, he had to reach the river again, and if I had the power he would never take that formula with him.

      As I stared, I thought suddenly that I had seen something move near the fire. The tiger-thought flashed into my brain, and frightened me. I was absolutely helpless, and knew that the brutes were bold. Nothing came of it, however; I saw nothing further move, and was reassured. Then, as it happened, the rain lessened the fire and began to quench it. Because of the storm, dawn would be long in coming. My position was unenviable. Added to all this, O’Grady’s suggestion that Schneider might still be coming along was rather disturbing. He was no such antagonist as O’Grady; if he found me in this plight, he would see to it that I was totally put out of the game. Now I could quite comprehend O’Grady’s fervent dislike of Schneider from the very start. And I could guess what it was Schneider had tried to shout at me, about O’Grady, when we passed his hung-up boat on the river. It must have insufferably maddened the Dubonnet agent to see O’Grady using me as a cat’s paw!

      Just here, I felt something brush against the tent, then touch me, and I must have jumped upright where I sat.

      VI

      Now a dark figure uprose between me and the dying firelight.

      “All right, master! It is Yu.” I relaxed. Yu! He chuckled softly as his fingers felt for my wrists, and a knife slipped across the thongs. Then he had the gag out from between my aching jaws.

      “Ah! That’s good. How the devil does it happen you aren’t drugged?” He chuckled again.

      “I suspected—too late. The other men had drunk while I was helping you here. When the Japs came, I knew that I was helpless against so many, so I shammed sleep. Now, master, stretch yourself, while I make tea and get some chocolate.”

      If I had eaten with O’Grady, he had not. He slipped away again, and was busy for a while about the fire, while I rubbed life into my wrists and ankles once more.

      Clever Yu! How I blessed him in this moment!

      He was back again in no time, with some chocolate and two pannikins of tea. He squatted down under the tent lantern, grinned at me, and sipped his tea.

      “What now, master?”

      “Any chance of getting those men waked up?” I asked.

      He shook his head. “Not for many hours at least. It is almost dawn now. They would not be in shape to set out until noon or after.”

      I drank the tea he handed me.

      “If we had any arms, I’d set out after O’Grady,” I said. “But we haven’t a thing—”

      Yu chuckled. “Master, there are two extra pistols in one of the packs. Also, when I knew that trouble was at hand, I hid my rifle under the leaves near the fire, and the Japs did not find it.”

      At this information, I started.

      “By my hand, Yu! If we win out yet, I’ll give you a hundred in gold for this night’s work! Can you and I follow the trail?”

      He nodded, grinning all over his half bearded countenance.

      “Yes, master, and there are some rubber ponchos in a pack, which O’Grady knew nothing about.”

      I laughed suddenly.

      “Yu, you’re a miracle worker! If you could produce a fresh mule or two—”

      “There is one, master,” and he pointed. “That on which Miss French came. She rode downhill most of the way and the animal is not nearly so weary as ours. You can take that mule, and I will take one of the others, for I am light and you are heavy.”

      “Good! Then get the ponchos, and the pistols. I’ll help saddle up, and we’ll be off in five minutes. If O’Grady can travel without sleep, I guess we can too.”

      Fortunately, the Irishman had had no opportunity to go through everything in camp. I found no lack of vestas, filled my pocket with cigars, stuck in some extra cartridges and chocolate and a flask of brandy, and donned the poncho which Yu brought me. Then I took one of the wide grass-hats of the muleteers, and could snap my fingers at the rain.

      We got the two mules saddled, built up the fire in order to protect the sleeping men against beasts, and were ready to leave.

      Then, as we stood there, Yu touched my arm and pointed to the back trail. Had it been clear daylight, I suppose we could have overlooked winding portions of that trail for miles. As it was, I perceived, through the rain, occasional flashes of light.

      “Hello!” I exclaimed. “Looks as though somebody were using an electric torch back there, Yu.”

      “Schneider,” he observed.

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