"So we gave you a shock, hey?" chuckled Little knowingly.
"You?" An undercurrent of contempt marked Gordon's tone.
"No, you didn't shock me a bit, old fellow. Not many men can. It was a—er—a lady." The voice broke into a grating laugh.
"Who? What? Was it Mrs.—" burst out Little incautiously.
"Mr. Little!" Gordon snarled, his teeth showing viciously, "you forget yourself, I think. Remember you're in a gentleman's house, even though that house is only a hut and the gentleman's infernally drunk. That part of my business concerns neither you nor Houten."
"Sorry," Little apologized awkwardly, blushing like a girl. "I ought—"
"That's all right," broke in Barry shortly. "Mr. Gordon will understand that. At present we can't talk much business. The atmosphere doesn't seem right. Come, Little, we'll get back to the ship, and perhaps Gordon will come aboard to dinner to-morrow, eh, Gordon?"
"Certainly, Captain, thanks. I'll be glad to eat at a white man's table again," cried the trader, obviously relieved at the departure of his guests. "What time?"
"Well, say about noon; then we can talk business for an hour. By the way, can you direct me to the Mission?"
"Just behind the stockade, Captain. Not a hundred yards away. But you can't see it for trees until you get there. Won't find anybody there now, though; it's the time of day when all the men are out teaching, and the women are visiting the huts to teach the mothers to look after the kids."