Hank, squashed for the moment, was silent, then he said: “Well, maybe, but there we are, in about as dangerous a fix as people could be, and you talk of fools’ games.”
“By the way,” said George, “have you brought off those automatics?”
“Those which—automatics—Lord, no—I forgot, clean. How’s a chap to be remembering things, running backwards and forwards from that damned ship? Clean——”
“Well, it’s not the first thing you’ve forgotten, and if you’re so anxious about the Mexicans, you’d better go and fetch them.”
“Me! I ain’t going to fetch and carry any more. Go yourself.”
“Pistols aren’t any use,” said Tommie, suddenly as if awaking from a reverie. “If those people come, there’ll be so many of them it won’t be any use firing at them and if any of them were shot, we might get into trouble.”
“Seems to me we’re mighty near it.”
“Mighty near which?” asked a voice.
Candon had returned and was standing just outside the fire zone. He seemed in a slightly better temper.
“Why, Hank here has forgot to bring off the automatics,” said George, “and he’s afraid of those Mexicans coming down on us in the night.”