“Of all the questions! But to answer them—we live just twenty miles away from the next settlement and there’s a tribe of about fifty Betoya Indians living there. They’re better left alone though, if you’re thinking of trying to promote good will. Some Brazilian rubber men mistreated them not so long ago and they’re anything but in a conciliatory frame of mind.”
“Well, I won’t add to their worry then,” Hal said, feeling rather depressed. “How long does it take to get to Manaos?”
“Two long days. It depends on the skill of the paddler. Sometimes it takes longer, but certainly it’s not less than that. Are you thinking of leaving us, Mr. Hal?” she asked wistfully.
“Nope, not yet. In fact, I’m not going until you see or get some word from your brother.”
“Oh, you’re kind, Mr. Hal! Awfully kind.”
“Not kind—human,” Hal laughed. “I have a weakness for human beings too.”
“I’m glad, for we need someone with that kind of weakness. But you seem a little—well, serious. What is it?”
“Your brother, Miss Felice. I don’t want to seem snoopy, but I’d like seriously to see him and talk to him. That’s why I don’t want you to feel offended if I ask you what idea you have of his whereabouts?”
“Why, er—Mr. Hal,” said Old Marcellus, rising out of the doorway in a faded dressing gown and an air of injury. “Isn’t this rather a late hour for you to be talking to my....”
“It makes not the slightest difference whom I talk to, Mr. Pemberton,” Hal interposed pleasantly. “In fact, I think it would be better for you to be here. You heard my question about your grandson?”