A little native boy scuttled away--as black as night, woolly-headed, and shiny; he had crept up unknown to look with fearful eyes upon the wonderful white strangers.
Trent threw a lump of earth at him and laughed as he dodged it.
"Well, go ahead, Monty," he said.

"Let's hear what you're driving at.
What a gab you've got to be sure!" Monty waved his hand--a magnificent and silencing gesture.
"I have alluded to these matters," he continued, "merely in order to show you that the greater share of danger and discomfort in this expedition falls to my lot.

Having reminded you of this, Trent, I refer to the concluding sentence of your last speech.

The words indicated, as I understood them, some doubt of our ability to see this thing through." He paused, peering over to where Trent was sitting with grim, immovable face, listening with little show of interest.

He drew a long, deep breath and moved over nearer to the doorway.