“‘We’ve come to save you!—to take you away from this village,’ whispered Deny, giving her a ravishing look. ‘Take you away to another country where the white men and women live,—understand?—savvy?’ continued Deny, as the girl looked up and simply stared at us.
“At first we thought it might be some haunting remembrance of her childhood days in England that made her stare so. It may have been so. However, the only response she made was to put forth her hand and commence to caress the pendant, the brass compass, that dangled at the end of my silver watch chain! Then she giggled and showed us her babies!
“‘Yours!’ almost yelled Deny.
“The scales fell from our eyes when we learnt from her own lips that those pallid, demon-like-looking kids were hers—twins too!
“‘Where’s he?’ we both ejaculated in a tense whisper, as we looked around.
“She shook her head, did not understand.
“‘The old man, your husband?—the father of the kids?’ said Deny, trying to make her understand.
“Pointing to the floor, she said, ‘He go under, goodee job tooer!’
“‘Dead!’ was Deny’s and my comment. Nor did we shed any tears over the dead heathen’s demise, I can tell you.
“There she stood before us, innocent-looking as a child, a splendid specimen of what an English girl was like when reared up as a savage. Even as I watched, I thought of the interest she would create in the souls of those who went in for anthropology.