He thinks he made a clean job of that.

I'll bet he loaded the launch down with stuff for a long safari, and thinks now he has a clear run and can take his time!" "If that's how the cards lie, the game's ours!" Coutlass saw the point at last and offered himself on the altar of forgiveness and friendship.
"Make me your partner, gentlemen, and if he travels within a hundred miles of this I will crawl into that Schillingschen's tent in the night and slit his throat! I would murder him as willingly as I eat when I am hungry!" "Your job has been assigned you!" answered Fred.

"When Mr.Brown's cattle are back in Lumbwa perhaps we'll give you something else to do!" Nevertheless, Coutlass had outlined in a flash the limits of the plan.
We would draw the line at murdering even Schillingschen, but must help ourselves to his outfit as our only chance of re-outfitting without betraying our presence in British East.

But the plan was not without rat-holes in it that a fool could see.
"Schillingschen's boys will escape and run to the nearest British official with the story!" "And the British official will be so full of the importance of Schillingschen and the need of protecting his beastly carcass--to say nothing of the everlasting disgrace of letting him be scoughed on British territory--and the official reprimand from home that's sure to follow--that he'll come hot-foot to investigate!" "We'll have to provide against that," said Fred, and we all laughed, including Coutlass.

Talk of provisions is easy when you have no means out of which to provide.