“You’ve done well, Toma,” Dick complimented him. “Good boy!”
He turned upon the panting culprit.
“Mighty glad you’ve come back. Very kind of you. This is a pleasure we hadn’t expected,” he could not conceal, even in this attempt at sarcasm, the satisfaction and relief the guide’s coming had brought. He seized Lamont by the arm.
“Step lively now over to that tent. You’ve played your last little game with me.”
Flourishing his gun, he sent the former guide staggering ahead with a well-directed push.
“Get in there,” he thundered, “and be quick about it! We’ll have a pleasant little talk—you and I. There are a few things I want to tell you.”
He followed Lamont inside, motioning to Toma to follow him. In the feeble light of the single fluttering candle eagerly he scanned the downcast features of the man who had caused him so much misery and trouble. He pointed to his bunk.
“Sit over there.”
For a moment he glowered, then:
“What were you doing here? Why did you come back?”