Threat and Counter-Threat
TWO days passed before Briscoe again had a chance to see Diana Martin. He had not been invited to the house again, and his new duties as overseer-in-chief of Timba made him range from the murky Zaga River to the lowering, sweltering Madina Range.
Late in the afternoon he had come upon Mike’s workmen in a ravine several miles from the house. The natives were engaged in the work of hulling out coconut meat for drying and the only sound was the whack of the machetes. Mike was lounging in the shade. He started up guiltily when he heard the hoofbeats of a horse, but he sank down again when he saw that it was Briscoe.
“Getting along all right?” said Briscoe.
“Sure,” said Mike, scratching between his shoulder blades. “Since you took over, things have been pretty quiet. Old Swiney is hanging around the house. If things would only stay this way, Lee, I’d be satisfied. But they won’t. Not a bit of it. That dame is going to spell trouble sooner or later, and you ain’t going to last very long or I lose my bet.”
“Bet?” said Briscoe.
“Sure, we got a pool on it. If you last until the first of next month, Tim wins. If you last to the fifteenth, I win. If you last until the twentieth, Rengarte wins. And if it goes clear to the fifteenth of the next, we donate the money to the rum fund. But it won’t never be donated. We’ll clear—”
“Watch yourself,” cautioned Briscoe, listening.
Another horse was coming down the twilight jungle trail. Coming fast.
Mike scrambled up and went to work. The natives began to move nervously about. It might be Schwenk and Schwenk had been known to shoot a man for loafing.
But it was not Old Swiney. It was Diana Martin.
She came down into the ravine and had started up before she saw the motionless Briscoe. He was blocking her trail and though he had started to move aside for her, the quick look she gave him and the way she searched with her eyes on either side of him for a way to get by made him stay where he was.
Diana was game. She reined in, sat easily in her saddle and gave Briscoe a white smile.
“No need to be afraid of me,” said Briscoe.
“Why … why, don’t be foolish. I’m not afraid … of you.”
He knew then that she was afraid of him. Very much afraid. Her small hand on the reins shook a little and she met his eyes with an effort, dropping her own every few seconds to find a way past him.
“You’ve been listening to Schwenk,” said Briscoe.
“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Briscoe.”
“You’ve been hearing that I’m pretty much of a devil one way and another. You’ll keep on hearing it right up to the day you and Schwenk get married.”
“Oh, but I’m not going to marry him.”
“Oh, but yes, you are, whether you know it or not. You came here to marry him.”
“Really, Mr. Briscoe, I must be going. They didn’t see me leave and if I fail to return right away, they’ll miss me and search. I just came out for a short ride. It’s a lovely island, isn’t it?”
Mike Goddard was standing at her stirrup. He laughed suddenly. She gave a start, not having seen him come up on her. She tugged at the reins restlessly and looked behind her. The half-naked natives had all stopped work. Their eyes were fixed upon her. She felt trapped.
It was hardly a time for polite conversation, but Briscoe did not know when he would get another chance.
“If you ever need help,” he said simply, “I’ll be on call.”
“Thank you … but I hardly think that that will be necessary. Mr. Schwenk is very kind …”
Mike let out another bellow of amusement and the horse shied.
“Let me by,” ordered Diana.
Courteously, Briscoe drew out of her way. She was too anxious to be gone and she laid on sharply with her quirt. The horse snorted and reared and almost threw her.
Instinctively, Briscoe reached out and snatched at her waist, pulling her from the saddle before she could fall.
For the space of ten seconds she clung to him. Then, suddenly, she realized where she was and who Briscoe was and began to struggle.
He tried to let her down while Mike got her horse, but Diana had heard a great deal about Briscoe, all of it bad, and she failed to understand that his motive was purely gallant.
Twisting about she raised her quirt and tried to strike him.
Briscoe dodged and she would have fallen again if he had not gripped her tightly.
It suited Schwenk’s character perfectly that he would choose that moment to announce himself.
He had evidently been sitting still on the brink of the ravine after following the girl’s horse along the muddy jungle trail.
Now he dug in his spurs, yelled and came down the ravine riding hard. In an instant he whipped Diana out of Briscoe’s grasp and quickly deposited her on the ground. In the next, Schwenk drew his revolver and aimed it at Briscoe’s chest.
“The instant my back is turned,” roared Schwenk, “you try your devilish tricks with the only decent woman you ever met! Damn you, Briscoe, I’ll blow you—”
Briscoe dodged, lashed out with his quirt and knocked down the gun. It fell from Schwenk’s stinging hand toward the muck. But Mike was under it with lightning speed. He flipped the revolver up. Briscoe caught it, reversed it, and before Schwenk knew what had happened, he himself was covered.
“I don’t want to get you this way, Schwenk,” said Briscoe, “although it would be a pleasure. You have no idea, Schwenk, what a kick I’d get out of drilling you, and neither have you any idea of the numerous scores we’ll someday settle. Right now, Schwenk, help the lady mount her horse and clear out of here before I change my mind.”
“Damn you, Briscoe. Don’t think you can get away with everything. There’s a limit. Give me that gun.”
“I need this gun. I also need that ammunition belt and holster. Mike, take the belt off him.”
“Touch this belt and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” mocked Briscoe. “You’re a yellow pup, Schwenk. You won’t do a thing to Mike. And you won’t touch me. If you do, I’ll have five hundred natives storming your house within the hour, whether I’m alive or dead. They’d string you up, soak you in gasoline and let you burn.”
“The Dutch—” blustered Schwenk.
“Damn the Dutch. I can pay as much for protection as you can. Get out of here before I change my mind and blow you all over the landscape.”
Diana had mounted. Seeing the trail clear before her, she rode swiftly up toward the jungle edge. Schwenk saw her go, looked uncertainly at the revolver in Briscoe’s hand and then followed her.
“I’ve done it now,” said Briscoe, ruefully buckling on the belt. “She thinks I’m a devil.”
“I’ve known women to love devils,” said Mike, thoughtfully scratching his leg.
“Not her kind.”
“There’s no difference in kind,” said Mike.
Joffo, the gigantic Swahili, moved toward Briscoe like a panther. “Why you no killum? Them fellah boy like killum along you plenty. Why you no killum?”
“Think I want his murder on my hands?” said Briscoe.
“I killum along that fellah boy hog,” said Joffo. “Givum along that pistol and I killum plenty for you.”
“We’ll wait a while,” said Briscoe.
“Why wait? Allatime that fellah boy figure out to killum white boss. Killum fellah boy hog first time, number one.”
“Ladies don’t like murder,” said Briscoe.
“What for not like killum? Funny gal no like killum. My gal like me one time when I got two heads on poles. Before that she no likum. What for this fellah missie different native gal?”
“You’ll have your chance,” promised Briscoe.
“Give it to them now,” pleaded Mike. “Look here, in fifteen minutes I could get word to almost every native boy on Timba. They like you. They think you’re a real chief-boss, Lee. Don’t let that ugly devil get the best of you. He’s up there loading that dame down with a lot of lies. Listen. You give me that pistol and I’ll sneak up tonight and put it against the back of his neck and pull the trigger. You take the dame. I’ll take those pearls and we’ll light out.”
“She wouldn’t go for that,” said Briscoe. “She thinks Schwenk is somebody.”
“She wouldn’t go for that!” mocked Mike, emphatically itching the small of his back. “I knew a swell little cookie down in Sydney once that wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with me until I bumped off Jigger Evans. She was his gal. She liked me because she figured I was the tougher gent, see? Women are all the same. She’ll get sick of that Schwenk and she’ll eat out her heart for you. I know women. She respects you. You got her scared. She figures you’re the toughest gent on Timba. Don’t be a sap. Walk in and take what you want. I’ll kill Schwenk—”
“And have the Dutch hang the lot of us. They’d do it quick enough if anything happened to a gold mine like Schwenk. There are other ways, Mike. The Sultan is still in the harbor. We’ll take the steamer and get away. If we don’t bother Schwenk much, the Dutch won’t even follow us. Let me handle this.”
“All right,” said Mike. “But tonight I’m going to bet ten guilders that you don’t last forty-eight hours more.”