“If we’d cut our rations by half?” Jack suggested.
“Naturally that would give us more travel days. We could stand up under shortened intake probably, but what about the Indians?”
“Are we in any worse situation than we were before?” Ken speculated. “Our bearers wouldn’t have been much good in an attack.”
“No, they’d have deserted.”
“Personally, I’m in favor of going on for at least another day or two,” Jack suddenly proposed, his mind made up. “I’m not saying the prospect doesn’t scare me a little. But we’ve come a long way now, and I’d hate to turn tail. How would it sound, telling the fellows back home, that we quit because someone shot an arrow at us?”
“I feel the same way,” announced Ken quietly. “If we mind our own business and make no hostile moves, those Indians should tumble to the idea that we’re friendly.”
“We can leave some of our trade goods here at camp when we start on,” contributed War. “A sort of peace offering.”
“Unfortunately, we haven’t very much left,” Mr. Livingston said ruefully. “Our bearers helped themselves when they sneaked away last night.”
The matter was debated for awhile longer. In the end, however, the Scout leader agreed to proceed one day’s journey farther.
“I knew you fellows would take this attitude,” he declared. “I’m proud of you. I just hope we’re making no mistake.”