“Where are we?” she whispered. “The fire!”
“That’s all right,” Quest shouted. “We’ll be out of it in a moment. Hold tight to my neck.”
He braced himself for a supreme effort and ran along the pathway. His feet were blistered with the heat; there was a great burn on one of his arms. At last, however, he passed out of the danger zone and staggered up to where the Professor, the Inspector and Laura were waiting.
“Say, that was a close shave,” he faltered, as he laid Lenora upon the ground. “Another five minutes—well, we won’t talk about it. Let’s lift her on to your horse, Laura, and get back to the camp.”
2.
The Professor laid down his book and gazed with an amiable smile towards Quest and Lenora.
“I fear,” he remarked dolefully, “that my little treatise on the fauna of the Northern Orinoco scarcely appeals to you, Mr. Quest.”
Quest, whose arm was in a sling but who was otherwise none the worse for his recent adventure, pointed out of the tent.
“Don’t you believe it, Professor,” he begged. “I’ve been listening to every word. But say, Lenora, just look at Laura and French!”
They all three peered anxiously out of the opening of the tent. Laura and the Inspector were very slowly approaching the cook wagon. Laura was carrying a large bunch of wild flowers, one of which she was in the act of fastening in French’s buttonhole.
“That fellow French has got grit,” Quest declared. “He sticks to it all the time. He’ll win out with Laura in the end, you mark my words.”
“I hope he will,” Lenora said. “She’s a dear girl, although she has got an idea into her head that she hates men and love-making. I think the Inspector’s just the man for her.”
The two had paused outside the cook wagon. Laura held out the flowers to the Chinaman.
“Can’t you find me a bowl for these?” she asked.
He looked slowly up at her.
“No bowlee for flowers,” he answered. “All want for eatee.”
Laura leaned over and shook him by the shoulder.
“Well, I’ll eatee off the ground,” she said. “Give me a bowl, you slant-eyed old idiot.”
“Why don’t you obey the lady?” French intervened.
Very slowly the Chinaman rose to his feet, disappeared inside the cook wagon and reappeared with a basin, which he handed to Laura. She thanked him carelessly, and they passed on. From where they stood, both Quest and Lenora saw the look which for a moment flashed from the Chinaman’s eyes. Lenora shivered.
“I’ll be glad when we get away from here,” she declared, clinging to Quest’s arm. “That Chinaman hates Laura like poison, and I’m afraid of him.”
Quest nodded.
“She does seem to have put his back up,” he agreed. “As to going on, I think we might just as well move tomorrow. My arm’s all right.”
“And I’m quite well,” Lenora asserted eagerly.
“We’ve wired for them to meet Craig,” Quest said. “I only hope they don’t let him slip through their fingers. I haven’t much faith in his promise to turn up at the Professor’s. Let’s see what Laura and French have to say.”
“Can’t see any sense in staying on here any longer,” was French’s immediate decision, “so long as you two invalids feel that you can stand the journey. Besides, we’re using up these fellows’ hospitality.”
“We’ll get everything in order to-night,” Laura decided, “and start first thing to-morrow.”
They busied themselves for the next hour or two in making preparations. After their evening meal, the two men walked with Lenora and Laura to their tent.
“I think you girls had better go to bed,” Quest suggested. “Try and get a long night’s sleep.”
“That’s all very well,” French remarked, “but it’s only eight o’clock. What about a stroll, Miss Laura, just up to the ridge?”
Laura hesitated for a moment and glanced towards Lenora.
“Please go,” the latter begged. “I really don’t feel like going to sleep just yet.”
“I’ll look after Lenora,” Quest promised. “You have your walk. There’s the Professor sitting outside his tent. Wouldn’t you like to take him with you?”
Laura glanced indignantly at him as they strolled out, and Lenora laughed softly.
“How dared you suggest such a thing!” she murmured to Quest. “Do look at them. The Inspector wants her to take his watch, and she can’t quite make up her mind about it. Why, Laura’s getting positively frivolous.”
“Guess we’d better not watch them any longer,” Quest decided. “What about a game of bezique?”
“I should love it!” Lenora assented. “You’ll find the cards in that satchel.”
They sat and played for half an hour by the light of a lantern. Suddenly Quest paused in the act of dealing and glanced over his shoulder.
“What the mischief was that?” he muttered.
“Sounded as though the tent flapped,” Lenora replied.
Quest rose, and with the lantern in his hand walked to the other side of the tent. The flap was open, but there was no sign of any one in sight. He looked around and came back.
“Queer thing!” he exclaimed. “It sounded just as though some one had pulled the flap of the tent back. The flap’s open, but there isn’t a soul in sight.”
“I expect it was fancy,” Lenora remarked. “Still, there isn’t a breath of wind, is there?”
Quest returned to his place, and they recommenced the game. Just at that moment the entrance to the tent was lifted and Laura ran in. She plumped down upon her bed with her hands on either side of her.
“If that man—” she began.
Suddenly she sprang up with a little cry which turned almost into a scream. From a look of humorous indignation, her face suddenly assumed an expression of absolute terror. She shrank away.
“There’s something soft in the bed!” she shrieked. “I felt it with my hand!”
They all looked towards the cot. Quest held up the lantern. They distinctly saw a movement under the bedclothes. The Inspector, stooping down, suddenly entered the tent.
“Say, what’s wrong here?” he demanded.
“There’s something in Laura’s bed,” Quest muttered. “Here, give me the camp-stool.”
He stole towards the bed, gripping the camp-stool firmly with his right hand, and slowly turning down the bedclothes with the feet of the chair. Suddenly there was a piercing scream. A huge snake, coiled and quivering for the spring, lifted its head. Even Quest seemed for the moment nerveless. Then from the doorway came the sharp report of a revolver, and the snake fell, a limp, inert thing. They all looked at the Professor as though fascinated. He came a step farther into the tent, the revolver still smoking in his hand. Standing over the snake, he deliberately fired again and again into the body.
“I think,” he remarked, in his usual calm tones, “that we may consider the creature now beyond any power of doing harm. You will be interested to hear,” he continued, bending over the remains of the creature, “that this