"No," said Bill bluntly, "I do not. We never could have got along, lad. Rivers to cross by fords that we might have had to travel leagues and leagues to find, lakes to bend round, marshes and swamps, where lurks a worse foe than your respectable and gentlemanly 'gators."
"What, snakes?"
"Oh, plenty of them! But I was a-loodin' to fever, what the doctors calls malarial fever, boys.
"No, no," he added, "we'll go on now until we meet poor Benee, if he is still alive. If anything has happened to him--"
"Or if he is false," interrupted Dick; "false as Peter would have us believe--"
"Never mind wot Mr. Bloomin' Peter says! I swears by Benee, and nothing less than death can prevent his meeting us somewhere about the mouth of the Maya-tata River. You can bet your bottom dollar on that, lads."
"Well, that is the rendezvous anyhow."
"Oh," cried Dick, "sha'n't we be all rejoiced to see Benee once more!"
"God grant," said Roland, "he may bring us good news."
"He is a good man and will bring good tidings," ventured Burly Bill.