“Lord James!–your chum?”
“He started in like you, sort of top-lofty. But he chummed all right–after I took out a lot of his British starch with a good walloping.”
“Oh, really now, Blake, you can’t expect any one with brains to believe that, you know!”
“No; I don’t know, you know,–and I don’t know if you’ve got any brains, you know. Here’s your chance to show us. What’s our next move?”
“Really, now, I have had no experience in this sort of thing–don’t interrupt, please! It seems to me that our first concern is shelter for the night. If we should return to your tree nest, we should also be near the cocoa palms.”
“That’s one side. Here’s the other. Bar to wade across–sharks and alligators; then swampy ground–malaria, mosquitoes, thorn jungle. Guess the hands of both of you are still sore enough, by their look.”
“If only I had a pot of cold cream!” sighed Miss Leslie.
“If only I had a hunk of jerked beef!” echoed Blake.
“I say, why couldn’t we chance it for the night around on the seaward face of the cliff?” asked Winthrope. “I noticed a place where the ledges overhang–almost a cave. Do you think it probable that any wild beast would venture so close to the sea?”
“Can’t say. Didn’t see any tracks; so we’ll chance it for to-night. Next!”