“That guy doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”
“He’s a white man, and so are we. He might give us a break if we hit him right.”
“We don’t even know where the old boy has staked himself out for the night,” Ken objected. “If we try to find him, the natives will get us first.”
“We’ll have to think of something,” Jack insisted soberly. “We can’t stay here many hours.”
“We need water.”
“I’m going after it,” Jack announced with sudden decision. He had seen a stone basin in the plaza, its four carved serpents spouting spring water from their mouths. Twice he had observed natives fill their jugs.
“It’s risky, Jack.”
“No more so than staying here. By nosing around I may find out where Captain Carter’s keeping himself.”
“Okay,” Ken agreed reluctantly, “but be careful.”
Taking the empty canteens, Jack made his way toward the water fountain. Moving stealthily in the darkness, he stared at the great ruined temple, unroofed and open to the stars. Somewhere within that building, or perhaps in the palace, Captain Carter must lie sleeping.