30 THE WHALE HUNTERS 



a little afraid for he was still in awe of the natives and had 

 not before encountered them in or near their villages. As 

 he stood summoning his courage to come face to face with 

 the stranger he saw something move among the dimness of 

 the trees and at the same moment there was an explosion. 

 The Indian clutched his side and then fell limply to the 

 ground where he lay quite still. 



From the trees the grey shape emerged and became the 

 dark clad figure of a man. Smoke still drifted from the 

 barrel of the pistol in his hand as he gave the body a 

 push with his foot. Then out of the corner of his eye he 

 saw Jonathan standing speechless and motionless on the 

 track. 



In the same moment that the boy turned to run he 

 recognised the black-bearded features of Nathaniel Sykes, 

 the ruffianly man he had seen on his second night at the 

 inn. 



Fleeing through the wood Jonathan heard the man's 

 footsteps behind him on the dead leaves and then felt a 

 hand grip the tail of his coat. He spun round and the 

 large ugly bearded features glowered down at him. 



'Now, young Jonathan/ the man breathed, 'you and me 

 'ave got to have a bit of a parley and come to an under- 

 standin'.' 



He waited till he had got his breath, then he went on, 

 T don't want it known to no livin' soul what you've seen 

 just 'appen. In fact, as far as you know, it never did 

 'appen, did it?' and he crushed the boy's shoulder in his 

 large hand. 'Did it?' he repeated and a knife in the 

 other hand touched Jonathan's throat till it pricked the 

 skin and the blood ran on to his collar. The grip on his 

 shoulder tightened like a vice. 'Swear you never saw it 

 'appen!' 



'I swear, I swear!' gasped Jonathan and felt the grip 

 relax. 



'If you ever let out even a word of what didn't 'appen 



