"Damn you!" he snarled. "You can't—"
Garth went on quickly. "I'm handing this to you straight. We're in a spot, sure, but we can get out of it. I can make more antitoxin, but it'll take a while. I can't do it while we're traveling. I need equipment. Here's what I'm proposing—we all keep going, the way we started. I'm immune to the pollen. If we move fast, we'll reach the lost city, or whatever it is, before you go under. Then I can start making antitoxin. We'll have to trap some small animals and allow time for incubation. But I'll be able to make fresh shots and neutralize the Noctoli pollen."
"It's too long a shot," Sampson said.
"Okay," Garth told him. "Suit yourself. Play it my way, or commit suicide." He turned and walked toward Paula, who had not moved from Brown's side.
Her eyes were steady on his. "Thanks. That was nice going—plenty nice, if you pull it off."
"It's suicide either way," Garth grunted. He began packing Brown's kit and his own.
Footsteps sounded. Garth didn't turn. He heard Sampson's deep voice, hoarse with repressed fear and rage.
"We're playing it your way, Garth. God help you if you make any boners!"
Sudden relief weakened Garth. He tried not to show it, though he realized that his hands were trembling.
"Fair enough," he said. "We'll march in ten minutes. Get the men ready."