“I thought I would simply say that his non-arrival caused us some anxiety, and that I had come down to see if anything was wrong.”
Jack rose and threw away the end of his cigarette. It was quite late, and across the river the gleam of the moonlight on fixed bayonets told that only the sentries were astir.
“And what about the small-pox?” pursued Oscard, more with the desire to learn than to amend.
“Don't think I shall say anything about that. The man wants careful handling.”
“You will have to tell him that we have got it under.”
“Yes, I'll do that. Good-night, old fellow; I shall be off by daylight.”
By seven o'clock the next morning the canoe was ready, with its swarthy rowers in their places. The two Englishmen breakfasted together, and then walked down to the landing-stage side by side.
It was raining steadily, and the atmosphere had that singular feeling of total relaxation and limpness which is only to be felt in the rain-ridden districts of Central Africa.
“Take care of yourself,” said Oscard gruffly as Jack stepped into the canoe.
“All right.”