The other man nodded.
“I was crazy, I guess. I figured that if you died, back up there, I’d have a chance to win her myself when I got out. I got out of my hammock to kill you ... And that was the night that damned jaguar chased us out into the middle of the river and kept us there till daybreak. He saved your life.”
The other Yanqui shrugged and bent again to his wrapping.
“You see what a fool I am,” said the red headed man savagely. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to let you keep my gun?”
The wrappings were nearly complete about the dull green stones. The gray eyed man shrugged.
“Don’t be a fool. You’re cured.” He smiled suddenly. “There’s not a shell among the three of us, anyway.”
He put the package carefully down. He stood up and stretched and climbed unconcernedly in his hammock, slung only a few inches from the ground.
“Go to sleep,” he said dryly. “We’re all fools.”
He was still. The red headed man sat staring into the fire for minutes. Then he, too, stood up. But he stared down at the wrapped and laced package of uncured hides. He frowned. The frown became a scowl. Suddenly he kicked the package and growled inarticulately. Within thirty seconds thereafter he was in his hammock. But tossings that continued for a long time showed that it was not easy for him to sleep.