“Mebbe you right. I like think so. All same Govereau make you surprise once in a while. Fool ever’body.”
“That’s true,” rejoined Dick, “but if Govereau really is here, he’s here and that’s an end to it. There’s nothing that we can do except to fight him and take our own risks. I think that you and Raoul had better get into some dry clothes as quickly as possible. A good supper and a sound sleep afterwards are the first things to be considered. I wonder if I’d better wake Sandy?”
“Him better sleep long time an’ wake up himself. Him be all right then.”
Dick heeded this advice from Toma and a few minutes later sat down to one of the most enjoyable meals he had eaten in weeks. Then he and the young Indian guide tumbled into the bunk above Sandy and were almost instantly fast asleep, their weary limbs stretching out in the luxurious softness of a white rabbit sleeping-bag.
They woke on the following afternoon and clambered down from their perch. To his amazement, Dick beheld Sandy, somewhat pale but otherwise quite his usual self, sitting at the table, opposite their host. He was eating gruel from a bowl and conversing in low tones to Raoul.
“Why, Sandy!” exclaimed Dick, unable to conceal his delight. “What has happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re up.”
“Sure I’m up,” the voice of the young Scotchman rose in jovial good humor as he glanced across at his two friends, who were dressing hurriedly. “Didn’t expect me to lie in bed all night and all day too, did you?”
“Yes, but how do you feel?”