'When Clark leaves the ship for the dash to the Pole, it is three, not two, of us, after all, that he is going to take with him, making a party of four.'
I: 'Is that so? Who knows?'
Maitland: 'Wilson does. Clark has let it out in conversation with Wilson.'
I: 'Well, the more the merrier. Who will be the three?'
Maitland: 'Wilson is sure to be in it, and there may be Mew, making the third. As to the fourth, I suppose I shall get left out in the cold.'
I: 'More likely I.'
Maitland: 'Well, the race is between us four: Wilson, Mew, you and I. It is a question of physical fitness combined with special knowledge. You are too lucky a dog to get left out, Jeffson.'
I: 'Well, what does it matter, so long as the expedition as a whole is successful? That is the main thing.'
Maitland: 'Oh yes, that's all very fine talk, Jeffson! But is it quite sincere? Isn't it rather a pose to affect to despise $175,000,000? I want to be in at the death, and I mean to be, if I can. We are all more or less self-interested.'
'Look,' I whispered—'a bear.'