Knowlton exploded. McKay and Lourenço snickered.
"It's on you, Tim!" vociferated Knowlton. "You dug the hole yourself. Now crawl in and pull it in after you."
Tim snorted wrathfully, but his eyes laughed.
"Aw, what's the use o' trying to educate you guys?"
"You swallowed a mosquito just now, but I cannot swallow that devil bug," Pedro grinned.
Tim rumbled something, solaced himself with a cigarette, then squatted and joined the others in their frugal breakfast of coffee and chibeh—a handful of farinha mixed with water in a gourd. When it was finished McKay, who never smoked in the morning until he had eaten, filled a pipe and suggested:
"Guess we'd better plan our campaign. We didn't take time yesterday. In case we find no trace of the Raposa at the place where you fellows saw him, what's your idea?"
Lourenço, puffing thoughtfully, stared into the fire.
"There will be time enough to decide that, Capitao, after we have visited that place," he said, slowly. "Still, perhaps it is best to make some plan; it can be changed at any time."
For a moment longer he looked at the dying flame. Then, dropping his cigarette stub into it, he continued: