“Yes, sir,” said the boy sadly, “and I suppose I deserve it. I should mind all this much less if we had arranged with my father that I should come.”
“Well done, young philosopher,” said the colonel, as he kept his hand on the lad’s shoulder, and marched him to and fro. “Come, as you can think so well, give me your advice. You know why I have come—to obtain this seed to place in the hands of those who will cultivate it, and make the world independent of the one source of supply.”
“Yes, sir,” said Cyril wonderingly.
“And you see the position to which I am reduced.”
“Yes, sir. Will the Indians kill us?”
“Not without paying dearly for it,” said the colonel sternly. Then changing his manner: “No, my lad. These people are only half-savage, and look upon what they are doing as a duty. I do not think they will kill us if they can get possession of all our baggage. They might keep us in captivity until means are taken to free us; but I don’t know—I hardly feel that our lives are safe.”
“Not very, sir,” said Cyril grimly, “if they rolled big stones. It might have been us instead of the mules this morning.”
“Yes, we have had some narrow escapes; but what shall I do now—give up and own that I am beaten?”
“And let them have the kina seed, sir? No, that I wouldn’t; I’d fight for it first,” cried Cyril excitedly.
“Do you know what you are talking about?” said the colonel excitedly.