The merry child gave chase, following the fawn, and calling to it as she ran, pushing her way as well as she could between the tall reeds and grass, which were higher than her own curly head.
Motee soon missed her charge, and quickly hurried after Edith. So eager, however, was the child in pursuit of the fawn, that she was some distance from the tents before the ayah overtook her.
“O Missee Baba,” cried the panting nurse, “why you run away from your Motee?”
“I want to catch the pretty fawn; I want to take it to mamma; it is too little to be by itself,—I’m afraid the jackals will get it!”
“I am afraid that the jackals will get Missee Baba,” cried the ayah, catching the little girl up in her arms. “Missee must come back to the beebee directly.”
Edith was a good little child, and made no resistance, though she looked wistfully into the bushes after the fawn, and called out to it again and again in hopes of luring it back. Motee attempted to return to the tents, but did not feel sure of the way,—the vegetation around grew so high that she could scarcely see two yards before her. She walked some steps with Edith in her arms, then stopped and looked round with a frightened air.
“Motee, why don’t you go on?” asked Edith.
“O Missee Baba, we’re lost!” cried the poor Hindu; “lost here in the dreadful jungle, full of wild beasts and snakes!”
Edith stared at her ayah in alarm, yet at that moment the little child remembered her mother’s lessons. “Don’t be so frightened, Motee,” said the fair-haired English girl; “the Lord Jesus can save us, and show us the way to mamma.”