"Hui—so haste! Back, you."
The Spaniard spoke softly, and he was grinning. "The chief plays with woman's words, no? Charming señorita, though she dresses like a boy. But that is the more charming, eh? Listen to her, Grant."
He gripped me, and prodded my side with the point of his knife blade. "Lie down Americano: we will listen."
Jetta was insisting. "Hendrick, stop!"
"Why?"
could see them now. They were seated before the opening of De Boer's tent. A little stove in front of them. Coffee for Jetta, who was seated cross-legged, pouring it; a bowl of drink for De Boer. And some baked breadstuff dainties on a platter.
"Hendrick—"
She pushed him away as he leaned to embrace her. Although she was laughing with him, I could only guess at the chill of fear that might be in her heart.