“I’ve been too busy taking off my jungle coat,” Hal laughed. “But what do you want to know that I didn’t write you?”
“Well, for one thing, I’m interested to know what that poor devil Pemberton died of. You just wrote that he was dead when you found him.”
“And that’s all I can tell you, Unk,” Hal said earnestly. “We couldn’t find a mark or scratch on him anywhere, so I guess a doctor would say it was from natural causes. I’d call it a broken heart.”
“No doubt, poor fellow. It’s the saddest thing I ever heard of. Still, those benighted Pallidas didn’t know any better. You say they were almost wiped out?”
“Sure, we had to. They rained poisoned arrows on us like as if it was snowing. Some of the older warriors and the women and the children escaped into the jungle. They won’t be seen for many a year, believe me. But didn’t those rebel boys work! Gosh, they were aces high, Renan included.”
“I’m glad for their sakes. Your friend Rene’s, too. Today’s paper said they were all to be fully pardoned by the government.”
“And by that same token your case is knocked in the head, huh, Unk?”
“Of course. The Cause just simply isn’t any more. Thanks to Renan. He’s quite a hero to Brazil, I guess.”
“He’d be an asset to any country, Unk. The U. S. will be proud to have him back. Felice, also.”
“You mean especially Felice, eh?”