“Good old George!”
“There’s only one thing worrying me,” resumed Freddy, peering out
apprehensively. “The cap’ll be wise that I made a getaway to join you,
and he’ll see my tracks where I crossed the river and come this way
looking for the bunch of us.”
“That’s nothing to worry about,” I assured him. “Two of his men were
within fifty feet of the cave a short time ago and didn’t see it.”
“What I’m worrying about,” said Betty, “is that you left George.”
“Hah? The boss? Why, how could I get the grub to you without leaving
him? And he says we got to do that no matter what happened to us.”
“We could have got along without the food,” Betty continued, “and by
leaving the yacht you weakened George’s plan. If he attempts to
overcome Brack now he—why, he may be in danger of his life.”
“Sure thing. That’s understood. The boss knows that, but that ain’t
what’s worrying him, not at all. If he can fix things right with you,
that’s all he cares about. He told me so.”
“Chanler is himself again,” I said. “You remember I said he would be.”
Betty sat with her chin in her hands, thinking. Her eyes were turned
in my direction, but she was seeing beyond me without noticing my
presence. Suddenly she spoke the words that brought upon us the great
crisis.
“I won’t have George risking his life on my account. I can’t bear
that. I won’t have it.”