At last I spoke. “Old friends,” I said, “how long is it since we got back from Kukuanaland?”
“Three years,” said Good. “Why do you ask?”
“I ask because I think that I have had a long enough spell of civilization. I am going back to the veldt.”
Sir Henry laid his head back in his arm-chair and laughed one of his deep laughs. “How very odd,” he said, “eh, Good?”
Good beamed at me mysteriously through his eyeglass and murmured, “Yes, odd—very odd.”
“I don’t quite understand,” said I, looking from one to the other, for I dislike mysteries.
“Don’t you, old fellow?” said Sir Henry; “then I will explain. As Good and I were walking up here we had a talk.”
“If Good was there you probably did,” I put in sarcastically, for Good is a great hand at talking. “And what may it have been about?”
“What do you think?” asked Sir Henry.
I shook my head. It was not likely that I should know what Good might be talking about. He talks about so many things.