“You,” they cried. “Do you know the road?”
“I’ve been there before, and I remember it more or less. Besides, it is really my show this time. I got the warning, and I want the credit.” And he smiled.
“The road’s bound to be risky,” said Thwaite thoughtfully. “I don’t feel inclined to let you run your neck into danger like this.”
Lewis was busy turning over the problem in his mind. The presence of the man Holm seemed the one link of proof he needed. He had his word that there were signs of trouble in the place, and that the Bada-Mawidi were ill at ease. Whatever game Marker was playing, on this matter he seemed to have spoken in good faith. Here was a clear piece of work for him. And even if it was fruitless it would bring him nearer to the frontier; his expedition to the north would be begun.
“Let me go,” he said. “I came out here to explore the hills and I take all risks on my own head. I can give them Marker’s message as well as anybody else.”
Thwaite looked at Holm. “I don’t see why he shouldn’t. You’re a wreck, and I can’t leave my own place.”
“Tell Andy you saw me,” cried Holm. “He’ll be anxious. And tell him to mind the north gate. If the fools knew how to use dynamite they might have it down at once. If they attack it can’t last long, but then they can’t last long either, for they are hard up for arms, and unless they have changed since last week they have no ammunition to speak of.”
“Marker said it looked as if they were being put up to the job from over the frontier.”
“Gad, then it’s my turn to look out,” said Thwaite. “If it’s the gentlemen from over the frontier they won’t stop at Forza. Lord, I hate this border business, it’s so hideously in the dark. But I think that’s all rot. Any tribal row here is sure to be set down to Russian influence. We don’t understand the joint possession of an artificial frontier,” he added, with an air of quoting from some book.
“Did you get that from Marker?” Holm asked crossly. “He once said the same thing to me.” His temper had suffered badly among the hills.