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While realising all this he was not man enough to rise above and overcome the limitations of his spirit. Cumshaw swung round the corner of the hut and out of sight. Then it was that Bradby began to feel absolutely deserted, and the queer oppressiveness of the place descended on him as one shuts down the lid of a box.
"Apparently," I remarked, "everyone's afraid that everybody else'll have the lion's share of the fighting. Well, if I can fix it, there'll not be any fighting at all." "What do you mean?" Cumshaw asked interestedly. "That's nothing to do with the situation at present," I informed him. "You'll all see when the time's ripe. Now what's next?"
"If you'll look over east, where there should be a lone tree, you won't find any. It's wattle everywhere you look. The fire cleared out all the trees and forced the wattle on in their place. If you came by here on any side but the one we came by you'd take this to be just an ordinary hollow full of wattle." "You're talking nothing else but wattle," Cumshaw interrupted.
Everybody, from your father and Bradby down to Bryce and ourselves, has taken it for granted that a tree's vital to the solution." "Isn't it?" Cumshaw queried quickly. I shook my head. "Not in the least," I said.
"I don't want to go with you." "I'll take you home," said Bryce. That he decided was the only thing he could do. Cumshaw was in no fit state to continue the search for his lost valley, and Bryce realised that it would not be safe to leave him uncared for. If he went home with Cumshaw he would be throwing his pursuers off the track. That would help him considerably.
To which comes the pleasant reply: "No want Missy buy. Come bring Missy cumshaw." A slender hand slips around the open door, against one side of which I press my knee while he braces a huge foot against the other, and in the hand lies a red leather box painted with flowers and dragons. "Present for Missy; cumshaw," says the pleasant voice, and what can you do?
His unrecognisable and nameless antagonists had temporarily withdrawn from the fight, whether to consolidate their forces and plan some new form of attack, or because they had received a very salutary lesson, he could not say. Also it did not worry him over much. His ideas were centred mainly on Mr. Cumshaw.
"Remember, before you refuse, that it's always better to compromise than fight. Furthermore, if you have to fight, it's much better to have an ally you can rely on." "What's that?" Cumshaw demanded with a show of interest. "What do you mean?" "Only this," Bryce said slowly. "There's another crowd on the track, and they've already warned me that they'll make the going heavy.
"There's nothing more that I know of," Cumshaw volunteered. "And you, Moira?" "I think I've got everything fixed," she answered. "That means we can start at the end of the week," I said with satisfaction. "It looks as if fortune's turning our way at last." The three of us laughed together, and Cumshaw I think it was who said, "Success to the expedition!"
"Great place, this," Cumshaw said presently. "Great place," Mr. Bradby assented. "A man can die here without anyone being any the wiser." Mr. Cumshaw made no reply to that, but the corners of his mouth tightened as if he suspected some hidden meaning beneath that smooth remark. Just as the first rays of the rising sun slanted into the hut Mr.
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