And as he went he patted the side-pocket of his coat, where his old-style revolver still reposed; he remembered the way Krausz had whipped out his weapon the evening before, and the thought was hardly reassuring.
He found the doctor as he had left him, and under the direction of the Germans the natives were beginning to make the dirt fly. Krausz looked up, his heavy eyes narrowing slightly at sight of the American's face; then he smiled cordially.
"Well, Mr. Hammer? And how did you find the fräulein!"
"A darned sight worse than I expected," returned Hammer frankly. "See here, doctor: I'd like to know why she won't let a man enter her tent under pain of firing at him, and why she's holding a grudge against you?"
The ribbon of muscle began to beat under the skin of the other's brow, though Krausz's expression never changed. Jenson apparently, paid no attention.
"Pouf!" The big Saxon spread his hands with a Continental shrug. "My dear fellow, it iss her fancy. What can you expect? She hass never been here in Africa before, and she iss nervous. Ass to dissliking me, why should she? Wass I not her father's friend before he died?"
"How the devil do I know? It's a cinch she hasn't any love for you, doctor; and I'd like to know why that girl has to barricade herself in her tent, that's all. What's more, she isn't the sort to be nervous."
Hammer looked down at the other, hands on his hips, his brown face determined. He realized that he was beginning to dislike the sight hissing accent of his employer, no less than that curious muscle in the forehead, and the aggressive note in his voice was thinly veiled.
Krausz seemed surprised at the change in his first officer, and once more his eyes narrowed; but this time they were menacing—so menacing that Hammer felt uneasy.
"Are you her guardian, Mr. Hammer?"