With a start she raised her eyes to look into the sardonic countenance of Nikolas Rokoff.
CHAPTER XIII.
Escape
For a moment Rokoff stood sneering down upon Jane Clayton, then his eyes fell to the little bundle in her lap. Jane had drawn one corner of the blanket over the child’s face, so that to one who did not know the truth it seemed but to be sleeping.
“You have gone to a great deal of unnecessary trouble,” said Rokoff, “to bring the child to this village. If you had attended to your own affairs I should have brought it here myself.
“You would have been spared the dangers and fatigue of the journey. But I suppose I must thank you for relieving me of the inconvenience of having to care for a young infant on the march.
“This is the village to which the child was destined from the first. M’ganwazam will rear him carefully, making a good cannibal of him, and if you ever chance to return to civilization it will doubtless afford you much food for thought as you compare the luxuries and comforts of your life with the details of the life your son is living in the village of the Waganwazam.
“Again I thank you for bringing him here for me, and now I must ask you to surrender him to me, that I may turn him over to his foster parents.” As he concluded Rokoff held out his hands for the child, a nasty grin of vindictiveness upon his lips.
To his surprise Jane Clayton rose and, without a word of protest, laid the little bundle in his arms.
“Here is the child,” she said. “Thank God he is beyond your power to harm.”
Grasping the import of her words, Rokoff snatched the blanket from the child’s face to seek confirmation of his fears. Jane Clayton watched his expression closely.