Part 25 (1/2)
The fire was soon re-lit, and a pot of meat set on to stew. It had ample time to simmer. Winthrope was wrapped in a life-giving sleep, out of which he did not waken until evening, while Blake, unable to wait for the pot to boil, and nauseated by the fishy odor of the dried seafowl, hunted out the jerked leopard meat, and having devoured enough to satisfy a native, fell asleep under a bush.
The sun was half down the sky when he sat up and looked around, wide awake the moment he opened his eyes. Miss Leslie was quietly placing an armful of sticks on the fuel heap beside the baobab.
”h.e.l.lo, Miss Jenny! Hard at it, I see,” he called cheerfully.
”Hus.h.!.+” she cautioned. ”Mr. Winthrope is still asleep.”
”Good thing for him. He'll need all of that he can get.”
”Then you think--?”
”Well, between you and me, I don't believe Win was built for the tropics. This fever of his, coming on so soon, wouldn't have hit nine men in ten half so hard. He's bound to have another spell in a month or two, and--”
”But cannot we possibly get away from here before then? Is there no way?
Surely, you are so resourceful--”
”Nothing doing, Miss Jenny! Give me tools, and I'd engage to turn out a seagoing boat. But as it is, the only thing I could do would be to fire-burn a log. That would take two or three months, and in the end we'd have a lop-sided canoe that'd live about half a second in one of these tropic squalls.”
”Do not the natives sail in canoes?”
”Maybe they do--and they make fire by rubbing sticks. We don't.”
”But what can we do?”
”Take our medicine, and wait for a s.h.i.+p to show up.”
”But we have no medicine.”
”Have no-- Say, Miss Jenny, you really ought to have stayed home from boarding-school and England long enough to learn your own language. I meant, we've got to take what's coming to us, without laying down or grouching. Both are the worst thing out for malaria.”
”You mean that we must resign ourselves to this intolerable situation--that we must calmly sit here and wait until the fever--”
”No; I'll take care we don't sit around very much. We'll go on the hike, soon as Win can wobble. Which reminds me, I've got a little hike on hand now. I'm going to close up that barricade before dark. Me for a quiet night!”
Without waiting for a reply, he took his weapons, and swung briskly away down the cleft.
He returned a few minutes before sunset, with what appeared to be a large fur bag upon his back. Miss Leslie was pouring a bowl of broth from the stew-pot, and did not notice him until he sang out to her: ”Hey, Miss Jenny, spill over that stuff! No more of that in ours!”
”It's for Mr. Winthrope. He has just wakened,” she replied, still intent on her pouring.
”And you'd kill him with that slop! Heave it over. He's going to have beef juice.”
”Oh! what's that on your back? You've killed an antelope!”
”Sure! Bushbuck, I guess they call him. Sneaked up when he was drinking, and stuck an arrow into his side. He jumped off a little way, and turned to see what'd bit him. I hauled off and put the second arrow right through his eye, into his brain. Neatest thing you ever saw.”
”You surely are becoming a splendid archer!”
”Yes; Jim dandy! I could do it again about once in ten thousand shots.
All the same, I've raked in this peacherino. Trot out your grill and we'll have something fit to eat.”