"Senhor, it is not a matter of pay. These men can make plenty of money as seringueiros."
"Pardon," said Knowlton, and thereafter held his tongue.
Deliberately Lourenço finished his smoke, pinched the coal between a hard thumb and forefinger, and spoke for the first time.
"May I ask, senhor, if you are the commander?" His gaze rested on McKay.
"I am."
"And do I understand that we shall at all times be subject to your orders?"
"In case any orders are necessary—yes. But I assume that you will not need commands."
A quiet smile showed in the bushman's eyes. He glanced at Pedro. The latter met the look from the corner of his eye, without wink, nod, or other sign. But when Lourenço turned again to McKay he spoke as if all were arranged.
"When do we start, Capitao?"
Tim slapped his leg and cackled.