“You didn’t let him in?”
Harbinson evaded the other’s eyes. Baptiste, advancing to the table with a steaming kettle swinging from one hand, stopped short and shot a questioning gaze at the two.
“Yes, I couldn’t stop him. We were busy at something. He opened the door and walked in. It was too late then.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Davis scowled. “He should have known better.”
“But what am I to do? Sooner or later, we’ll be exposed. We can’t always be isolated. Another thing, we’ll soon need more supplies. Our grubstake’s getting low.”
“There’s the post thirty miles south of here.”
“Closed up,” said Harbinson briefly. “La Lond told us that too. Won’t be able to get any supplies there.”
“We’ll live on a meat diet then,” Davis declared grimly.
“Scurvy!”
“That’s much better than the horror of this other thing.”