"Let me go," he said. "I came out here to explore the hills and I take
all risks on my own head. I can give them Marker's message as well as
anybody else."
Thwaite looked at Holm. "I don't see why he shouldn't. You're a wreck,
and I can't leave my own place."
"Tell Andy you saw me," cried Holm. "He'll be anxious. And tell him to
mind the north gate. If the fools knew how to use dynamite they might
have it down at once. If they attack it can't last long, but then they
can't last long either, for they are hard up for arms, and unless they
have changed since last week they have no ammunition to speak of."
"Marker said it looked as if they were being put up to the job from over
the frontier." "Gad, then it's my turn to look out," said Thwaite. "If
it's the gentlemen from over the frontier they won't stop at Forza.
Lord, I hate this border business, it's so hideously in the dark. But I
think that's all rot. Any tribal row here is sure to be set down to
Russian influence. We don't understand the joint possession of an
artificial frontier," he added, with an air of quoting from some book.
"Did you get that from Marker?" Holm asked crossly. "He once said the
same thing to me." His temper had suffered badly among the hills.
"We'd better get you to bed, my dear fellow," said Thwaite, looking down
at him. "You look remarkably cheap.
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