“His orders are that one of us is to take them on by road, and that he is to remain in command for the man that goes. He doesn’t know the road, you know—what there is of it, damn it!”
“Yes,” replied Gerard, continuing the close study of his cigarette-point. “Which is to take them on?”
“There’s the nuisance. The ‘Vice’ has left that to us to settle. Didn’t know which had least fever, you know. But one of us may go.”
“Yes,” repeated Gerard, with a sigh; “I suppose it must be you.”
“I suppose it must,” admitted the little man, echoing the sigh. “I’m the oldest, you see. It’s risky work. You’re as likely as not to get hashed into mince-meat by some of those klewang brutes. Save us from our friends, say I!”
“True, I hadn’t thought of the risk,” replied Gerard, with much alacrity. “I’ll go, if you like. In fact, you know, I think it had better be I.”
“Why? Nonsense. You were awfully seedy when I was over here last week. And it strikes me you’re looking pale to-day. The miasma’ll be murderous at this time of night round by the second swamp.”
“Yes,” said Gerard again, endeavoring to improve the lamplight. “How long is it—did you say—since your fever went?”
The other did not answer immediately, and in the silence that ensued Gerard let fall one word from the tips of his lips:
“Humbug!”