‘You should take a look at yourself,’ Baird said. ‘You look a little nuts, too. Maybe I do. That dog nearly had me.’
Rico shivered.
‘You’ve been a big help,’ Baird went on. ‘I must have been soft in the head to have picked on you for a caper like this. If you’d hit the dredge with your first shot they wouldn’t have known where to look for us. We’d been the hel out of this by now.’
Rico didn’t say anything. He was thinking he must have been soft in the head to have got mixed up with Baird in the first place.
‘Maybe we’d better take it in turns to sleep,’ Baird said, yawning. ‘Hel ! My wrist hurts. We may have to paddle all night. I’l take the first nap. Keep your eye on Hater. Wake me if he shows any sign of coming to the surface.’
He stretched and closed his eyes. Rico watched him, fascinated. To be able to contemplate sleep at such a time! He had always known Baird had nerves of steel, and looking at him, a naked giant of solid bone and muscle, already dozing, Rico felt suddenly more hopeful. If there was a way out of this jam, Baird would find it. If they did get out of the swamp there was a quarter of a million dollars waiting for him.
An hour dragged by. Every now and then the sound of voices and the barking of dogs seemed unpleasantly close. Once Rico caught sight of some guards moving slowly along the opposite bank.
They passed without even looking across the river.
Hater showed no signs of recovering consciousness, and Rico wondered uneasily if he were going to die. He rigged up some shading for Hater by draping a blanket over the suitcase. It was very hot in the boat, and Rico longed for an iced highball.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he made no at empt to wake Baird. He sat in the prow of the boat, his ears and eyes missing nothing, while the hours dragged by.