This worried Robbins a bit.
He dropped the clapper, abandoned the bell, and hurried over to my side.
“We must get away,” he said.
That agreed with my fancy, and I immediately gave him to understand as much.
“The boys haven’t made the clean sweep they expected; you heard the gun—it may ruin all, for they won’t stand up long before that. Once the tide sets in against Toreado, all is lost. That’s the way things go down here, I’m told. Now, they need me.”
He never spoke truer words, and what was better, there could be no boastfulness found in that simple declaration.
They did need some one at their head, some one who could show more military strategy than the pompous Gen. Toreado.
It was settled—we must go—on my part to find a place of refuge for Hildegarde, while Robbins sought fields of glory.
Of course, it must be via the trap, since there was no other available route.
We hurried over to where the iron chairs and settees were piled up so very like a pyramid, and set to work destroying its symbolic perfection.