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But you can leave it to me to collect from him whatever may be due." Even the coronel nodded at this. The gleam in the Peruvian's eyes presaged unpleasantness for Schwandorf. "You gentlemen, of course, will not attempt to continue your journey for the present," the coronel suggested. "You are fatigued and I shall greatly appreciate the pleasure of your companionship.
"We'll be expected to go, too, and I'd sure like another crack at Umanuh, not to mention the Schwandorf outfit," said Knowlton, "but we have friend Rand on our hands now, and our first duty is to get him out of here safely." "Aw, Looey, have a heart! I 'ain't had no action since that li'l' scrap down the river, and I got to have some excitement before we blow.
But then Schwandorf suggested: "No need of your going to Nazareth. Better stay here, unless you want to go through a great deal of ceremonious foolishness over there. It's Peruvian ground and the barefooted ignoramuses of officials may insist on showing their importance by demanding your papers and all that.
José shrugged, calmly drank the coronel's wine, lighted the coronel's cigar, leaned back in the coronel's chair, and eyed the coronel with imperturbable insolence. "See here, José," demanded McKay, "you've had something up your sleeve all along. Now come clean! What is it?" José puffed airily at the cigar, saying nothing. "What orders did Schwandorf give you?"
You have brought back Mayoruna women from the Red Bone country, so you know the Red Bones are women stealers. And they steal for Schwandorf. You may believe me or not, señores, but I did not know this until the German told me. Oh yes, I knew he dealt in women, but of the Red Bone part of his business I was ignorant.
"Even here at the end of the world one can't get away from those beastly instruments." A throaty chuckle from the doorway followed the words. Schwandorf emerged, carrying a big bottle. "Yet there is one thing to be thankful for, gentlemen," he said. "In all this town there is not one man who attempts to play a trombone." The others laughed. Thomaz appeared with bottles and thick cups.
"Ah yes, Señor Schwandorf is truly dead," the Peruvian added, wiping his machete carelessly on one bare leg. "Whether or not the devil takes care of his own, as I was saying, there is no doubt that el Aleman now is with the devil. So, since we can do nothing for him, let us look after the two North American señores." Pedro, with a grim smile, turned with him toward the tribal houses.
I had got over the first hurdle. But there was no time to be lost. Stumm would meet the postman and would be tearing after me any minute. I took the first turning, and bucketed along a narrow woodland road. The hard ground would show very few tracks, I thought, and I hoped the pursuit would think I had gone on to Schwandorf.
Corks were drawn, liquids gurgled, matches flared, cigars glowed. Without warning Schwandorf shot a question through the gloom: "Have you seen Cabral the superintendent?" "Yes." "Ask him about the wild man?" "Yes." "Get any information?" "Nothing definite. He suggested that we see you." "So." A pause, while Schwandorf's cigar end glowed like a flaming eye.
I pretended to be mortally scared, and spoke in the best imitation I could manage of the postman's high cracked voice. 'He got out a mile back, Herr Burgrave, I quavered. 'He was a rude fellow who wanted to go to Schwandorf, and then changed his mind. 'Where, you fool? Say exactly where he got down or I will wring your neck. 'In the wood this side of Gertrud's cottage ... on the left hand.
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