"Listen," Sheldon said to them. "This man and me, we have one big fight
to-day. Maybe he die. Maybe I die. If he die, all right. If I die,
you two look after Missie Lackalanna. You take rifles, and you look
after her daytime and night-time. If she want to talk with Mr. Tudor,
all right. If she not want to talk, you make him keep away. Savvee?"
They grunted and nodded. They had had much to do with white men, and had
learned never to question the strange ways of the strange breed. If
these two saw fit to go out and kill each other, that was their business
and not the business of the islanders, who took orders from them. They
stepped to the gun-rack, and each picked a rifle.
"Better all Tahitian men have rifles," suggested Adamu Adam. "Maybe big
trouble come."
"All right, you take them," Sheldon answered, busy with issuing the
ammunition.
They went to the door and down the steps, carrying the eight rifles to
their quarters. Tudor, with cartridge-belts for rifle and pistol
strapped around him, rifle in hand, stood impatiently waiting.
"Come on, hurry up; we're burning daylight," he urged, as Sheldon
searched after extra clips for his automatic pistol.
Together they passed down the steps and out of the compound to the beach,
where they turned their backs to each other, and each proceeded toward
his destination, their rifles in the hollows of their arms, Tudor walking
toward the Berande and Sheldon toward the Balesuna.
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