"This was just a warning, Orman. They don't want us in their country."
"I don't care what they want; I'm going in. They can't bluff me."
"Don't forget, Mr. Orman, that you have a lot of people here for whose lives you are responsible, including two white women, and that you were warned not to come through the Bansuto country."
"I'll get my people through all right; the responsibility is mine, not yours." Orman's tone was sullen, his manner that of a man who knows that he is wrong but is constrained by stubbornness from admitting it.
"I cannot but feel a certain responsibility myself," replied White. "You know I was sent with you in an advisory capacity."
"I'll ask for your advice when I want it."
"You need it now. You know nothing about these people or what to expect from them."
"The fact that we were ready and sent a volley into them the moment that they attacked has taught 'em a good lesson," blustered Orman. "You can be sure they won't bother us again."
"I wish that I could be sure of that, but I can't. We haven't seen the last of those beggars. What you have seen is just a sample of their regular strategy of warfare. They'll never attack in force or in the open—just pick us off two or three at a time; and perhaps we'll never see one of them."
"Well, if you're afraid, go back," snapped Orman. "I'll give you porters and a guard."