For a moment tense silence fell upon the group. The boys watched the slim Arab, whose composure never gave way under the strain, which must have been terrific. He puffed slowly at his cigar, and then smiled.
"Mr. Schoverling, and you, Dr. von Hofe, you will realize that your men cannot subsist on air. They must have food. You may be too strong for us in open fight, but at least we can keep you on the island. I do not give up so easily. You may give me trouble, but in the end you will die—either of starvation or by bullet. By the way, this brush seems to be pretty dry. When my men were here it was green. I think a taste of fire—you catch my meaning!"
Charlie, at least, caught it and stared aghast at the cruel smile of the Arab.
CHAPTER XVII
FRESH SPOOR
"That's a good bluff, Selim," rejoined Schoverling coolly, "but it won't go down with me. You might as well give in."
The other shook his head, still smiling. But at this instant Jack, who had listened with intense interest to the duel of words, struck in and cut the Gordian knot.
"Look here, General, and Mr. ben Amoud," he said, leaning forward earnestly. "There's no sense in getting hot-headed over this. As near's I can see, we've each got a mighty good excuse to scrap, and we can do a whole lot of damage once we start. But this country isn't the place to start a row, not to my notion.