“Take her! Take her!” I exclaimed. “She is too heavy for me—I shall let her fall.”
“Take the devil!” he cried half angrily. “Have you lost your senses? What do you mean? You were so anxious to get her, now keep her. I don’t know anything about women and don’t want to.” Angrily he drew away.
But Maurice was not quick enough. Before he could prevent it I had again transferred the burden to his arms, a strange shudder passing over me as I let her go.
“I beg your pardon, old fellow, I—I’m a little upset by all this,” I stammered. “If you can’t hold her why lay her down on the grass.”
“Now that’s more like it,” muttered Maurice. “Here, let the old fellow take care of her—he’s the proper person. Hello there, Doctor! Tell him to look after the girl, will you? I don’t want the responsibility of this.”
“It’s all right. She’s only fainted. I saw that at the start,” replied the Doctor, who had been talking to the old man in Siamese. “She’s his daughter, he says. He’ll look after her, boys.”
The man was at her side in an instant, for be very sure Maurice lost no time in laying the girl down. Hastily bending over her he pressed his hand upon her heart, and then turning suddenly, flung himself at Maurice’s feet, kissing them again and again, at the same time clutching his ankles so that the boy could not move. Meanwhile the Doctor, seized by some sudden notion had started off on the run toward the huts.
Maurice’s face was a study as he tried to free himself from the old man’s grasp.
“Great heavens! Has everybody run mad but me!” he shouted. “Take him off, George! Take him off, will you? I don’t want to kick the old fellow, but I can’t stand this.”
I interfered and in a moment had rescued him.
“Ye gods! but that’s a relief!” cried Maurice, as the old man returned to the girl again. “What a row we’ve all got into, to be sure! Is she dead, George? Where’s the Doctor? He knows everything and ought to be here now. One would think you’d both been bitten by the tarantula. Confound him! Why did he run away?”
“No, no! She’s not dead. It’s only a faint,” I exclaimed. “She’ll come out of it all right.”
Something of a physician myself, I bent down hastily and feeling heart and pulse saw that there was really nothing to be feared. I was right, too. A few drops of brandy from Maurice’s flask speedily brought a return of consciousness. Perceiving a spring among the palms near by, I fetched some water in an earthen pot, which I happily discovered, and with this the old man tenderly bathed her head and the bleeding welts upon her back, talking incessantly in an unknown tongue. I could not fail to notice that his conversation was directed toward Maurice, whom he evidently regarded as responsible for the whole affair.
Meanwhile the Doctor continued absent and Maurice kept right on growling; he had not got over my moment of folly it seemed. Nor had I recovered from it either, and I was furious with myself about it. As I could not look toward the girl without starting into life the same absurd sensations, I bravely looked the other way.
“Confound it all! it will be dark in a few moments!” exclaimed Maurice. “Why don’t he come? We want to be getting out of this.”
It was quite evident that he was right. Not only was night approaching, but the sky, hitherto perpetually serene, had now begun to cloud over, and the faint sighing of the wind through the palms seemed to indicate an approaching storm.
Meanwhile the girl had arisen and stood leaning against her father, who kept “firing words at us,” as Maurice expressed it, which of course were wholly unintelligible.
“Yes, yes, it’s all right!” said Maurice, nodding good naturedly. “Much obliged—never forget us, and all that sort of thing. We understand.”
Suddenly the old fellow made a dart off among the palms and vanished.
“Great heavens! is he going to leave the girl on our hands?” cried Maurice, in evident alarm. But before we had time to discuss it there he was back again, carrying in his arms a rawhide pack which he flung upon the ground at Maurice’s feet. Still chattering, he loosened the straps and opening the pack drew out a loose, cotton garment, blue in color and fashioned something like the native pajama, which he proceeded to throw over the shoulders of the girl who, with downcast eyes, stood quietly by his side.
Now he bent over the pack again and took out a large camel’s hair shawl of exquisite pattern and laid it over Maurice’s arm with a profound salaam.
“That’s for you!” said I. “See what you get for your share in this business.”
“But I don’t want it! I’m no more entitled to it than you are, George! What in the world am I to do with the thing?”
Indeed, he would have returned the gift, but the old man either could not or would not comprehend.
Salaaming again, this time including both of us, he hastily closed the pack, slung it upon his shoulders, and taking the girl by the hand tottered off among the palms.
Was she actually going? Again those ridiculous sensations seemed to seize me. I longed to rush forward to drag her back, but I restrained myself, disgusted at my own thoughts which not for worlds would I have had Maurice know. “We ought to stop them—we ought to know more of this matter;” was all I could trust myself to say.
“Why?” asked Maurice, indifferently. “We’ve done all that could be expected of us, George. Let them go their way. Hello! Here’s the Doctor back at last, and its about time, I must say.”
I turned to look. Philpot was approaching from the direction of the huts. When my gaze reverted toward the forest again it was only to get a last glimpse of that singular pair disappearing among the palms, hand in hand.
“Hello! Where are those people?” exclaimed the Doctor, as he came hurrying up a few minutes later on.
“Gone,” replied Maurice, “and it’s time we were going too. What in thunder made you run off the way you did?”
“Why, the old man said they had robbed him of all his money,” cried the Doctor. “Told me it was in a little canvas bag; the reason they were beating the girl was to make her confess where he had hidden the rest.”
“And you went to get it back?”
“Yes. I pitied them. Unfortunate wretches! Said he was a peddler from a country to the north of this. Why, he begged me, with tears in his eyes, to get back the money, saying that he was ruined, and all that sort of thing, and now he has gone and lit out without even waiting to see what success I met with. I say it begins to look as though I’d been played for a fool.”
“Did you get the money?” asked Maurice.
“Got nothing,” was the angry response. “Couldn’t come up with one of those fellows. The whole village is deserted now, except for the elephant and the pigs. Confound the luck! I wanted to see the head-man, as they call him, and make him tell us our way. There never were such precious cowards as these Siamese. I say, De Veber, where did you get the shawl?”
Explanations were evidently in order now all around, and the next five minutes were spent in making them.
I expected to learn something about the old man and his daughter, but was disappointed, for the Doctor had already told all he knew.
“What were those people, anyhow?” asked Maurice. “They looked too white to be Siamese, or Cambodians either, for that matter.”
“Certainly they were neither, though the old chap spoke Siamese well enough,” replied the Doctor. “I wish to goodness you fellows hadn’t let them off so easily. I’m puzzled to know why the man should have humbugged