"Well, you ought to know, padre. What's to be done, then? We can't let a fine fellow like Jack Burnaby be snuffed out by a parcel of heathens. Suppose we tell the man in charge here--Captain Beaumont, isn't it?"
"Little use, I am afraid. Captain Beaumont doesn't understand the natives; and I fear he would scoff at Mbutu's story and refuse to believe it. The boy has an animus against the dago, you see."
"Why couldn't I go after the expedition myself along with Mbutu?" broke in Tom eagerly.
Mr. Barkworth looked dubiously at him, as though he half suspected for an instant that the story was got up for the occasion. But a glance at the young fellow's anxious face made him repent at once. He blew his nose again and said:
"I'm an old fool, h'm! Well now, let's talk it over."
A long and serious discussion ensued, in which Tom and Mr. Barkworth bore the greater part.
"Well, well," said Mr. Barkworth at length, "have your own way. Yes, my boy, you must go. You have a valid reason--the strongest motive anyone could have. And your uncle, sir--begad, if he takes you to task for disobedience, why, just refer him to me, and say that I'll get Tommy Bowles to ask a question in the House. I know him!"
"But how can Mr. Burnaby go after them?" put in Lilian. "They have taken all the launches, I know."
Mr. Barkworth's countenance fell.
"Whew!" he ejaculated. "That's a facer! Never do to go on foot, Tom; never overtake 'em in time round the north shore. H'm!"