Seeing the trend of his question, I was irritated, and sternly said:
“That is my affair, and I won’t discuss it. If there’s to be anything petty and spiteful in the matters of life and death that we are planning, I will stop everything right here, or demand that Lentala send some one else to me if it is impossible for her to come.”
Beelo was staring at me in surprise. He turned inquiringly to Christopher, and saw gentler but none the less reproving eyes. For a second he floundered between resentment and irrepressible good-nature, and then with a laugh threw a handful of sand at Christopher.
“Choseph!” he cried; “I didn’t mean anything, really I didn’t. And I’ll be good.” After reflection he asked, “Who is Mr. Vancouver’s best friend?”
“A man named Rawley.”
“You think he knows Mr. Vancouver’s plan?”
“He certainly does.”
“Then let him be the first.”
Darkness crouched behind all of this, but Beelo’s intelligent eyes were a light ahead. Unquestionably his mind was working rapidly, but his speech was slow and had silent intervals. He and Lentala were evidently undertaking severe tasks and desperate risks the nature of which I could not even surmise. Some profound motive must be urging them on.
“When he is taken out of the valley,” Beelo said after a pause, “I’ll want you and Christopher to go too, with me. Will you?”