"What worse than fools!"
"What brutes! Think what we might have saved him!"
We were unanimous as to that, but unanimity brought no comfort, until we all together hit on a notion that did ease our feelings a trifle. Coutlass and his two friends were sitting on camp-stools in the open where they could have a full view of our doings. Assuming the camping-ground to be equally divided between their party and ours, they were well within our portion. We decided their curiosity was insolent, declared inexorable war, and there and then felt better.
Fred went out with a tent-peg and scored in the sand a deep line to denote our boundary, the Greeks watching, all eyes and guesswork.
"Over the other side with you!" Fred ordered when he had finished.
They refused. He charged at them, and they ran.
"Whichever of you, man or servant, sets foot on our side of that line shall be a dead-sure hospital case!" Fred announced. "We'll reciprocate by leaving your side of the camp to you!"
"Who made you men rulers of this rest-camp?" Coutlass demanded.
"We did," Fred answered. "We've lost our rifles just as you have.
We'll fight you with bare hands and skin you alive if you trespass!"
"Gassharamminy!" shouted Coutlass. "By hell and Waterloo, you mistake me for a weakling! Wait and see!"