"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 024 - Six Men of Evil" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"We're splittin' eh?" he asked. "It's all we can do, I reckon; but it ain't goin' to get us nowhere."

"We've got Charley to thank for that," added a sarcastic voice.

The words brought forth an affirmative growl from all the riders but one.

The lone man who had maintained his silence still refused to speak for himself. He was riding behind the
others, now, his horse three lengths in back of them. He could hear every word that was expressed; and
his companions sensed that fact.

NOW that Charley's name had been mentioned, further sallies followed.

"He's the brains of this outfit, Charley is," said someone, with a laugh. "Had a way for us to make a
clean-up. What have we got?"

"A few thousand apiece," grumbled another. "That's better than nothing."

"Would you go through another six months for it?" came a question through the dark.

"For a few thousand?" Another laugh came with the response. "Say, bo, I wouldn't go through a week of
that misery we suffered even if we were to get the green chicquatil itself -"

"Sh-h!" A warning tone hissed beside the speaker's ear. "Lay off that stuff! It gives me the creeps. Don't
talk about the chicquatil! Every time I shut my eyes I see that green glow! Green everywhere - green that
never ends" - the man's voice was rising to a high, nervous pitch - "green light driving me mad -"

An arm thumped through the dark and punched the speaker roughly on the back. The man's words
ended abruptly.

Subdued mumbles came from the other riders. It was evident that they, too, held a nervous dread of
something that they all had witnessed. At length, one of the riders voiced the subject in an easy, reflective
tone that allayed the worries of the others.

"We're out of it," he said. "We'll forget it, soon. There's nobody going to take us back to the Aztec
temple. Let them keep the chicquatil there at Zeltapec. It's theirs, and they can have it. There's no one
who could take it from them. We've got something out of the wreck - enough to stake us -"

"To stake us?" The question came in a high tone from the nervous man who had been silenced. "To stake
us for what? We aren't even ourselves! Do you understand me? Not even ourselves! We're no one - no
one! - and Charley's to blame! He took us to that hell! I'd kill him if he hadn't suffered with us!"

"Yeah, Charley got his along with the rest of us," said another man, in philosophic tone. "He's not feeling
chipper, no more than us. Keeping mighty mum, there in back. Hasn't had much to say since we left
Zeltapec. Eh, Charley?"

The speaker glanced over his shoulder as he said the last words. He could not see the man to whom he
had referred as Charley. Only the slight thud of hoofs told that there was another man riding back there in
the darkness. Somehow, Charley seemed to feel himself ostracized from the companionship of these
men.