“Well, sir, that’s what you clever folk call methy-physical. I told him I didn’t think the Indians was to be trusted, and that I fancied they were keeping an eye upon everything he did, and he insulted me, sir.”
“Nonsense, John,” said Perry. “My father wouldn’t insult you.”
“O’ course you stick up for your dad, Master Perry, as is quite right natural, and your duty to. But I put it to you, Master Cyril: he’s a soldier, and I’m a soldier, and if one soldier calls another a stoopid old woman, with no more pluck than a quill pen, isn’t that an insult?”
“But Colonel Campion did not mean it, I’m sure,” said Cyril impatiently. “Now then, don’t waste time. What is it you think?”
“Well, sir, I think our Indians said something to those Indians who were with the llamas, and three or four turned back and followed after us.”
“Are you sure?” said Cyril anxiously.
“Well, sir, I’m sure I saw some of them dodging us and following. I wasn’t very sure at first, for I thought p’raps the colonel was right, and I was a bit of an old woman growing scared at shadows; but I feel pretty sure now.”
“But why should they follow us?” asked Cyril tentatively. “You have some idea in your head.”
“Well, sir, I have; and whether it’s right or wrong I can’t say, but it seems to me as these people are all in league together, and they don’t want anybody to come up in the mountains. They want to know what we’re about.”
“But don’t you fancy that, because it is what you have been thinking, John,” said Perry. “You have been wonderfully anxious to know where we were going, and what for.”