George folded his arms on his knees and bowed his head. Wandel's voice was startled.
"What's up?"
"Maybe I'm crying," George mumbled. "Ought to be, because I'm so filthy tired, and I know you're wrong, Driggs. I'm rotten inside. I haven't even started to climb."
But when he looked up there were no tears in his eyes, and his dirty face had altered with its old whimsical smile.
"Besides, it's enough to make me cry to know you wouldn't say all this unless you were certain I'm going to be killed."
"Hope not," Wandel laughed, "but picnics are full of germs. What's this?"
A grimy figure approached like a man fantastically imitating some animal. His route was devious as if he were perpetually dodging something that miraculously failed to materialize. He stopped, straightened reluctantly, and saluted George.
"Captain sent me on, sir. I've located Jerry opposite at——"
He rattled off some coordinates. George looked him over.
"How did you find that out?" he snapped.