Archie stared at him inimically. Dick's face was wet with sweat and his silk shirt stuck to his body. 'Heat or funk?' thought Archie uncharitably. But the limpness of the leaves and the attentions of the flies told him how hot it really was. And yet he was shivering. Fever coming, he concluded. Damned nuisance just now.
'Yes,' he said aloud, 'the rains.'
He could stand the fellow's physical presence no longer, and turned to the tent.
'Norah,' he said, 'we must make our plans.... I say, you oughtn't to be in this furnace.'
'I promised you...' she replied slowly.
He stared at her. Then some promises were binding! That wouldn't do either. If he was to go through this show decently he must rule out bitterness as well as anger.
They walked into the shade. Dick followed. His restless eyes, his fingers twining and loosing revealed his anxiety. Archie felt the pervading suspense and saw that for all his distaste for explanation he must declare himself. At last he broke the silence which seemed so intolerable to Dick's tormented nerves. His words were commonplace enough.
'This is a rotten position,' he said, and added, 'for all of us,' then paused for thought. 'If we were anywhere else,' he went on, 'I'd go away. A long way away, and let time'—he felt for a word—'mend things.' Another silence. 'Unless I called you out and shot you'—his rapid whisper was more startling than a shout. 'But, as it is, I can't clear out, or you'd both starve.'
Dick wiped his forehead.
'So we've got to stick together,' ended Archie, 'till we're out of this hole.'