Part 28 (1/2)
”Get a move on you!” called Blake. ”You're slow. Grab a bunch of leaves, and get into the smoke, if you don't want to be stung.”
Winthrope neither gathered any leaves nor hurried himself, until he was visited by a highly irritated bee. Then he obeyed with alacrity. Blake was far too intent on other matters to heed the Englishman. Leaping in and out of the thick of the smoke, he pounded the ant-hill with his club, until he had broken a gaping hole into the cavity. The smoke, pouring into the hive, made short work of the bees that had not already been suffocated.
Although the antelope skin was drawn into the shape of a sack, both it and the pot were filled to overflowing with honey, and there were still more combs left than the three could eat.
Blake caught Winthrope smiling with satisfaction as he licked his fingers.
”What's the matter with my expedition now, old man?” he demanded.
”I--ah--must admit, Blake, we have had a most enjoyable change of food.”
”If you are sure it will agree with you,” remarked Miss Leslie.
”But I am sure of that, Miss Genevieve. I could digest anything to-day.
I'm fairly ravenous.”
”All the more reason to be careful,” rejoined Blake. ”I guess, though, what we've had'll do no harm. We'll let it settle a bit, here in the shade, and then hit the home trail.”
”Could we not first go to the river, Mr. Blake? My hands are dreadfully sticky.”
”Win will take you. It's only a little way to the bank here and there's not much underbrush.”
”If you think it's quite safe--” remarked Winthrope.
”It's safe enough. Go on. You'll see the river in half a minute. Only thing, you'd better watch out for alligators.”
”I believe that--er--properly speaking, these are crocodiles.”
”You don't say! Heap of difference it will make if one gets you.”
Miss Leslie caught Winthrope's eye. He turned on his heel, and led the way for her through the first thicket. Beyond this they came to a little glade which ran through to the river. When they reached the bank, they stepped cautiously down the muddy slope, and bathed their hands in the clear water. As Miss Leslie rose, Winthrope bent over and began to drink.
”Oh, Mr. Winthrope!” she exclaimed; ”please don't! In your weak condition, I'm so afraid--”
”Do not alarm yourself. I am perfectly well, and I am quite as competent to judge what is good for me as your--ah--countryman.”
”Mr. Winthrope, I am thinking only of your own good.”
Winthrope took another deep draught, rinsed his fingers fastidiously, and arose.
”My dear Miss Genevieve,” he observed, ”a woman looks at these matters in such a different light from a man. But you should know that there are some things a gentleman cannot tolerate.”
”You were welcome to all the water in the flask. Surely with that you could have waited, if only to please me.”
”Ah, if you put it that way, I must beg pardon. Anything to please you, I'm sure! Pray forgive me, and forget the incident. It is now past.”
”I hope so!” she murmured; but her heart sank as she glanced at his sallow face, and she recalled his languid, feeble movements.
Piqued by her look, Winthrope started back through the glade. Miss Leslie was turning to follow, when she caught sight of a gorgeous crimson blossom under the nearest tree. It was the first flower she had seen since being s.h.i.+pwrecked. She uttered a little cry of delight, and ran to pluck the blossom.