(no subject)
It’s still early afternoon when Veronica and Malone return the Treehouse and tell the others that Challenger’s been captured by the natives. The sulphur springs they found where the sacred burial grounds of one of the native tribes, and they weren't happy to have it disturbed. The scowl hasn’t left Roxton’s face since then. He’s just finished refilling his flask of gunpowder, and he jabs the cork down so none of it escapes. Their dwindling supply is what got Challenger captured in the first place.
“For God’s sake, Roxton, the man is dead,” Marguerite tells him, sulking at the table.
“We don’t know that,” he answers quickly, grabbing his satchel.
“I hardly think they were planning to throw him a party,” she points out snippily. She gets to her feet and crosses to the other side of the room. This is pointless. Why should they traipse around the jungle for a corpse?
“I should have stopped him,” Veronica says, frustrated. She never should have let him go past the taboo. They could have found other sulphur springs. She slips her knives into their sheaths.
“You tried,” Malone tells her softly, checking his own pistol while Roxton slings his rifle across his back. Summerlee shakes his head.
“Stubborn fool,” he says sadly. Roxton pauses and turns his head to Challenger’s older rival. “To the last,” the old man adds with a stiff nod. Roxton shakes his head.
“When I signed on to this expedition, I told Challenger I’d follow him to hell and back,” he looks pointedly at Marguerite, who turns away. He finishes loading his Webleys. “And I intend to do just that.”
“John.” The professor puts a hand on Roxton’s shoulder. “He may well be gone.” Roxton gives him a determined look.
“Then I’ll bring back his body and bury him.” He has everything. It’s time to go. He walks over to the lift and grabs his hat, waiting for the others.
Marguerite can’t believe this. For a corpse? They’re making her walk around the jungle for a corpse?
“Well, we best get going, then,” Summerlee says grabbing his things as well. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before dark.”
“He better be dead,” Marguerite grumbles, slamming her hat on her head. “Or I’ll kill him myself.”
((Dialogue from The Lost World))
“For God’s sake, Roxton, the man is dead,” Marguerite tells him, sulking at the table.
“We don’t know that,” he answers quickly, grabbing his satchel.
“I hardly think they were planning to throw him a party,” she points out snippily. She gets to her feet and crosses to the other side of the room. This is pointless. Why should they traipse around the jungle for a corpse?
“I should have stopped him,” Veronica says, frustrated. She never should have let him go past the taboo. They could have found other sulphur springs. She slips her knives into their sheaths.
“You tried,” Malone tells her softly, checking his own pistol while Roxton slings his rifle across his back. Summerlee shakes his head.
“Stubborn fool,” he says sadly. Roxton pauses and turns his head to Challenger’s older rival. “To the last,” the old man adds with a stiff nod. Roxton shakes his head.
“When I signed on to this expedition, I told Challenger I’d follow him to hell and back,” he looks pointedly at Marguerite, who turns away. He finishes loading his Webleys. “And I intend to do just that.”
“John.” The professor puts a hand on Roxton’s shoulder. “He may well be gone.” Roxton gives him a determined look.
“Then I’ll bring back his body and bury him.” He has everything. It’s time to go. He walks over to the lift and grabs his hat, waiting for the others.
Marguerite can’t believe this. For a corpse? They’re making her walk around the jungle for a corpse?
“Well, we best get going, then,” Summerlee says grabbing his things as well. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before dark.”
“He better be dead,” Marguerite grumbles, slamming her hat on her head. “Or I’ll kill him myself.”
((Dialogue from The Lost World))