Part 18 (1/2)
This was easier said than done. Fortunately, the spring was only a few yards distant, and after many trips, with her palm-leaf hat for bowl, the girl carried enough water to sprinkle all the powdery ashes. Over them she strewed the leaves and gra.s.s which she had gathered while the fire was burning. The driest of the gra.s.s, arranged in a far corner, promised a more comfortable bed than had been her lot for the last three nights.
During this work she had been careful not to forget the fire at the tree. Yet when, near sundown, she called the others to the third meal of leopard meat, Blake grumbled at the tree for being what he termed such a confounded tough proposition.
”Good thing there's lots of wood here, Win,” he added. ”We'll keep this fire going till the blamed thing topples over, if it takes a year.”
”Oh, but you surely will not stay so far from the baobab to-night!”
exclaimed Miss Leslie.
”Hold hard!” soothed Blake. ”You've no license to get the jumps yet a while. We'll have another fire by the baobab. So you needn't worry.”
A few minutes later they went back to the baobab, and Winthrope began helping Miss Leslie to construct a bamboo screen in the narrow entrance of the tree-cave, while Blake built the second fire.
As Winthrope was unable to tell time by the stars, Blake took the first watch. At sunset, following the engineer's advice, Winthrope lay down with his feet to the small watch-fire, and was asleep before twilight had deepened into night. f.a.gged out by the mental and bodily stress of the day, he slept so soundly that it seemed to him he had hardly lost consciousness when he was roused by a rough hand on his forehead.
”What is it?” he mumbled.
”'Bout one o'clock,” said Blake. ”Wake up! I ran overtime, 'cause the morning watch is the toughest. But I can't keep 'wake any longer.”
”I say, this is a beastly bore,” remarked Winthrope, sitting up.
”Um-m,” grunted Blake, who was already on his back.
Winthrope rubbed his eyes, rose wearily, and drew a blazing stick from the fire. With this upraised as a torch, he peered around into the darkness, and advanced towards the spring.
When, having satisfied his thirst, he returned somewhat hurriedly to the fire, he was startled by the sight of a pale face gazing at him from between the leaves of the bamboo screen.
”My dear Miss Genevieve, what is the matter?” he exclaimed.
”Hus.h.!.+ Is he asleep?”
”Like a top.”
”Thank Heaven! . . . . Good-night.”
”Good-night--er--I say, Miss Genevieve--”
But the girl disappeared, and Winthrope, after a glance at Blake's placid face, hurried along the cleft to stack the other fire. When he returned he noticed two bamboo rods which Blake had begun to shape into bow staves. He looked them over, with a sneer at Blake's seemingly unskilful workmans.h.i.+p; but he made no attempt to finish the bows.
CHAPTER XI
A DESPOILED WARDROBE
Soon after sunrise Miss Leslie was awakened by the snap and dull crash of a falling tree. She made a hasty toilet, and ran out around the baobab.
The burned tree, eaten half through by the fire, had been pushed over against the cliff by Blake and Winthrope. Both had already climbed up, and now stood on the edge of the cliff.
”h.e.l.lo, Miss Jenny!” shouted Blake. ”We've got here at last. Want to come up?”
”Not now, thank you.”