“Well, why must we go on without knowing how Tom and Bill are?”
“Because,” spoke up “Andy,” “if they’re sick they can’t travel, and we couldn’t get this boat to them even if we could get past the deadlines. And, instead of waiting here, doing nothing, we could go and find that lad and learn what he can tell us and then come back here. By that time the worst of the fever scare may be over and we can get our comrades and save time by going right where we have to.”
Mr. Gray seemed to agree, although he hesitated and asked Henry many questions.
Nicky, however, was very quiet.
“I don’t like this,” he told Cliff, as the two were sitting, far beyond midnight—they were too excited to sleep—watching the cold moonlight throw mosquitos into tiny, black silhouettes on the netting of the protecting cover under which they stayed.
“I don’t like it myself,” Cliff replied. “But what can we do?”
“I think we ought to go to the capital, and send help.”
“But,” Cliff objected, “if Tom and Bill are in the fever zone, the Honduras authorities won’t let them come out or let us go to them.”
“Do you want to go off and leave them, only knowing what Henry says about them?”
Cliff shook his head and answered soberly, “I don’t want to! But I can’t see what we could do in the capital.”