“It’s come to me that I’m sick of the show,” said B. C. “I’ve done my part, the expedition is over as far as I’m concerned and I stay here. You’ll be leaving early in the morning?”
“Sun-up,” said Hank.
“Well, you can leave a couple of days’ grub for me and one of the automatics in case I have any trouble with these fellows. That’s all, but I’ll see you in the morning before you start.”
They saw he was in earnest and in no temper for discussion, neither of them spoke.
Then Candon, having finished, got up and walked down to the beach.
Tommie had not said a word.
George was the first to speak.
“What ails him, what in the nation’s got into his head?”
“Search me,” said Hank, in a dreary voice, “unless it’s this expedition. I was saying before he came back there was something wrong with it, has been from the start. I dunno—well, here we are, and how are we to leave him without money or anything? Why, I’ve got as fond of that lad as if he was my own brother and he turns like that on us.”
“Maybe he’s tired,” said Tommie, “and if you talk to him in the morning, you’ll find him different.”