“Ow! That burns!”
Blake shook the glass in their bewildered faces.
“Look there!” he shouted, “there’s fire; there’s water; there’s birds’ eggs and beefsteaks! Here’s where we trek on the back trail. We’ll smoke out that leopard in short order!”
“You don’t mean to say, Blake–”
“No; I mean to do! Don’t worry. You can hide with Miss Jenny on the point, while I engineer the deal. Fall in.”
The day was still fresh when they found themselves back at the foot of the cliff. Here arose a heated debate between the men. Winthrope, stung by Blake’s jeering words, insisted upon sharing the attack, though with no great enthusiasm. Much to Blake’s surprise, Miss Leslie came to the support of the Englishman.
“But, Mr. Blake,” she argued, “you say it will be perfectly safe for us here. If so, it will be safe for myself alone.”
“I can play this game without him.”
“No doubt. Yet if, as you say, you expect to keep off the leopard with a torch, would it not be well to have Mr. Winthrope at hand with other torches, should yours burn out?”
“Yes; if I thought he’d be at hand after the first scare.”