“To the ship!” I exclaimed.
She smiled. “I advised him to pick some cool, trustworthy men to take charge of the march.”
“He said———?”
“That he already had his men chosen, and was glad that Hobart didn’t have to come out with me. He said it would be the making of Rawley to come, and that you would understand.”
I did at last. There was something almost magical in Captain Mason’s ability to dig the manhood out of men.
“And now for your work and Christopher’s,” resumed Beela. “I will take you to the king as English-speaking natives from the mountains beyond the valley on the west, which you have not seen. As I have told you, the natives there are wilder and fiercer than these, have little intercourse with them, and are largely independent. Their blood has mingled with that of a few castaways, and they are brighter. On this side is the ancient race, simple, gentle, dull. The king is proud of it, and wishes to keep it pure. But he will welcome the other men in this emergency, particularly if they speak English.”
“Has he full confidence in Gato?” I inquired.
“I think he is growing suspicious.”
“And we?”
“You are to be the king’s confidential agents; to find out, independently of Gato, all that is afoot; to be ready to protect the king; and especially to treat with the colony if any trouble should rise from that source. Is it all clear?”