They interchanged their ideas rapidly, speaking in whispers into each other's faces, very close now, Dain suggesting, Lakamba contradicting, Babalatchi conciliating and anxious in his vivid apprehension of coming difficulties.

He spoke most, whispering earnestly, turning his head slowly from side to side so as to bring his solitary eye to bear upon each of his interlocutors in turn.

Why should there be strife?
said he.

Let Tuan Dain, whom he loved only less than his master, go trustfully into hiding.

There were many places for that.
Bulangi's house away in the clearing was best.
Bulangi was a safe man.