"That is clearly impossible."
"Is it? I command you in this. Keleher remains on as chief. But tell him this for me: some day I may call upon him and his people for help, and when I do...."
"You have vision," said Amos Westler, admiration in his voice.
"When I do, I want no delays. That is my message to your ruler, to Keleher. Is it understood?"
Gilbert and some of the others nodded. A small, intense man, Westler fidgeted about impatiently while the girls returned with thick strips of cloth and scrubbed the grease from Johnny Hope.
"I'm now a celebrity," he said to Westler, feeling himself briefly as one with these wild people as they gathered around for his advice, preparing a victory banquet over roaring fires as darkness covered the bivouac area. He munched a savory leg of fowl, slaked his thirst from a moist leather wine bag, the claret stream gushing into his mouth from the spout.
"You see," Westler could not hide his disappointment. "It is even as I said. You will stay."
Johnny grinned at him. "Are you tired?"
"Why, no."
Tossing a chicken bone into the fire, Johnny went on: "And do you know the way to New York in the darkness?"