Joris turned around. He looked at his companions and shook with laughter. He had, for the first time since Trehearne had known him, the face of a completely happy man.
Trehearne staggered up. He got out a handkerchief and wiped his face. There was blood on it as well as sweat. "Well," he said, "we're off. But if you don't mind telling me now, Joris—where the devil are we off to?"
"H'm," said Joris. "This may seem a little peculiar to you in view of all the circumstances—"
He roared again with hearty mirth.
"I'll tell you, Trehearne. We're off to Thuvis."
SEVENTEEN
Trehearne stared at Joris. A small trickle of blood ran from his nose down over his lip. He forgot to wipe it away.
"You're joking," he said.
"Not at all." It was Edri who answered. He had come into the bridge behind Trehearne. He cried good-naturedly, "Blast you, Joris, what are you trying to do—kill us all before we get started?"