"They may be weak; their structure may be frail, and they may be incapable of violence or harm, but the depth of the footprints indicates a weight of at least one hundred and thirty pounds, and it certainly requires some muscular strength to break off a branch of wild guavas."
He bent his noble head, thoughtfully regarding the design on his slippers.
"What was the rifle for?" I asked.
"Defence, not aggression," he said, simply.
"A camera record is necessary in these days of bad artists."
I hesitated, glancing at Miss Barrison. She was still writing, her pretty head bent over the pad in her lap.
"And the clothing?" I asked, carelessly.
"Did you get it?" he demanded.
"Of course—" I glanced at Miss Barrison. "There's no use writing down everything, is there?"