"Or never," I agreed.
Again silence. Harry stood gazing at one of the flaming urns, buried in thought—easy to guess of what nature. I did not think fit to disturb him, till presently he spoke again.
"What do you suppose that ugly devil will do about—what he saw in here?"
I smiled. "Nothing."
"But if he should? We are helpless."
"Trust Desiree. It's true that she can't even talk to him, but she'll manage him somehow. You saw what happened just now."
"But the creature is no better than a dumb brute. He is capable of anything. I tell you, we ought to get her away from here."
"To starve?"
"And we're none too safe ourselves. As for starving, we could carry enough of their darned fish to last a year. And one thing is sure: we won't get back to New York lying round here waiting for something to turn up—even a mountain."
"What do you want to do?"