He paused, his lips smiling pleasantly, and Burke stared at him, with
mouth wide open, his eyes mere black slits in the gloom. It was a full
minute before he regained control of his voice.
"Ye think Oi 'm a dommed fool?" he ejaculated, hoarsely.
"No; that is exactly what I do not think, Burke," and Winston smiled
again beneath his stern gray eyes. "That is precisely why I know you
will show me all I desire to see. A damn fool might possibly be
tempted to take chances with this gun, and get hurt, but you are smart
enough to understand that I 've got the drop all right, and that I mean
business--I mean business." These words were uttered slowly,
deliberately, and the foreman involuntarily dropped his lids as though
feeling them physically, the fingers of his uplifted hands clinching.
"What--what is it ye want to see?"
"That tunnel you 've got concealed by falsework."
Burke spat against the rock wall, the perspiration standing forth on
his forehead. But Irish pugnacity made him stubborn.
"Who tould ye that loie? Shure, an' it's not here ye 'll be apt to
foind the loikes o' that, me man."
Winston eyed him scornfully.
"You lie, Burke; I saw it with my own eyes just beyond that second turn
yonder. You cannot play with me, and the sooner you master that fact
the better. Now, you can take your choice--lead on as I order, and
keep your men away, or eat lead. It's one or the other within the next
sixty seconds. Turn around!"
No man in his senses would ever doubt the determined purpose lying
behind those few low-spoken, earnest words. Whoever this man might be,
whatever his purpose, he was assuredly not there in sport, and Burke
wheeled about as though some concealed spring controlled his action.
"Good," commented Winston, briefly. "You can lower your hands. Now,
walk straight forward, speaking only when I tell you, and never forget
there is a gun-barrel within two feet of your back. The slightest
movement of treachery, and, God helping me, Burke, I 'll turn loose
every cartridge into your body. I don 't want to do it, but I will."
They moved slowly forward along the deserted tunnel, not unlike two
convicts in lock-step. Burke sullenly growling, a burly, shapeless
figure under the light in his hat; Winston alert, silent, watchful for
treachery, the glimmer of the lamp full on his stern face. Their
shadows glided, ever changing in conformation, along the walls, their
footfalls resounding hollow from the echoing passage. There were no
words wasted in either command or explanation. Without doubt, the
foreman understood fairly well the purpose of this unknown invader; but
he realized, also, that the man had never lightly assumed such risk of
discovery, and he had lived long enough among desperate men to
comprehend all that a loaded gun meant when the eye behind was hard and
cool. The persuasive eloquence of "the drop" was amply sufficient to
enforce obedience. Farnham be hanged! He felt slight inclination at
that moment to die for the sake of Farnham. Winston, accustomed to
gauging men, easily comprehended this mental attitude of his prisoner,
his eyes smiling in appreciation of the other's promptness, although
his glance never once wavered, his guarding hand never fell. Burke was
safe enough now, yet he was not to be trifled with, not to be trusted
for an instant, in the playing out of so desperate a game. At the
angle the two halted, while the engineer cautiously reconnoitred the
dimly revealed regions in front. He could perceive but little evidence
of life, excepting the faint radiance of constantly moving lights down
Number One tunnel. Burke stood sullenly silent, venturing upon no
movement except under command.