Waldo stared mute.
“How many young ones did you see?” the consul asked again.
“Twenty or more,” Waldo made answer.
“That’s impossible,” snapped the consul.
“There seemed to be sixteen or eighteen,” Waldo reasserted. Hassan smiled and grunted. The consul took from him two guns, handed Waldo his, and they walked around the tomb to a point about equally distant from the opposite corner. There was another bit of ruin, and in front of it, on the side toward the tomb, was a block of stone mostly in the shadow of the wall.
“Convenient,” said the consul. “Sit on that stone and lean against the wall; make yourself comfortable. You are a bit shaken, but you will be all right in a moment. You should have something to eat, but we have nothing. Anyhow, take a good swallow of this.”
He stood by him as Waldo gasped over the raw brandy.
“Hassan will bring you his water bottle before he goes,” the consul went on; “drink plenty, for you must stay here for some time. And now, pay attention to me. We must extirpate these vermin. The male, I judge, is absent. If he had been anywhere about, you would not now be alive. The young cannot be as many as you say, but, I take it, we have to deal with ten, a full litter. We must smoke them out. Hassan will go back to camp after fuel and the guard. Meanwhile, you and I must see that none escape.”
He took Waldo’s gun, opened the breech, shut it, examined the magazine and handed it back to him.
“Now watch me closely,” he said. He paced off, looking to his left past the tomb. Presently he stopped and gathered several stones together.