He was, however, cunning; so he hid the fact that his greatest interest lay in the two girl members of the company. Nor did he ever approach them unless men of their own race were with them.
This afternoon Rhonda Terry was writing at a little camp table in front of her tent, for it was not yet dark. Gordon Z. Marcus had stopped to chat with her. Atewy from the corners of his eyes noted this and strolled casually closer.
"Turning literary, Rhonda?" inquired Marcus.
The girl looked up and smiled. "Trying to bring my diary up to date."
"I fear that it will prove a most lugubrious document."
"Whatever that is. Oh, by the way!" She picked up a folded paper. "I just found this map in my portfolio. In the last scene we shot they were taking close-ups of me examining it. I wonder if they want it again—I'd like to swipe it for a souvenir."
As she unfolded the paper Atewy moved closer, a new light burning in his eyes.
"Keep it," suggested Marcus, "until they ask you for it. Perhaps they're through with it. It's a most authentic looking thing, isn't it? I wonder if they made it in the studio."
"No. Bill says that Joe found it between the leaves of a book he bought in a secondhand book store. When he was commissioned to write this story it occurred to him to write it around this old map. It is intriguing, isn't it? Almost makes one believe that it would be easy to find a valley of diamonds." She folded the map and replaced it in her portfolio. Hawklike, the swarthy Atewy watched her.
Marcus regarded her with his kindly eyes. "You were speaking of Bill," he said. "What's wrong with you two children? He used to be with you so much."