For a long time I waited for some one to come to my prison whom I might ask to bear word to the queen, but I seemed to have been forgotten. The strained position in which I lay became unbearable. I wriggled and twisted until I managed to turn myself partially upon my side, where I lay half facing the entrance to the dugout.
Presently my attention was attracted by the shadow of something moving in the trench without, and a moment later the figure of a child appeared, creeping upon all fours, as, wide-eyed, and prompted by childish curiosity, a little girl crawled to the entrance of my hut and peered cautiously and fearfully in.
I did not speak at first for fear of frightening the little one away. But when I was satisfied that her eyes had become sufficiently accustomed to the subdued light of the interior, I smiled.
Instantly the expression of fear faded from her eyes to be replaced with an answering smile.
“Who are you, little girl?” I asked.
“My name is Mary,” she replied. “I am Victoryl’s sister.”
“And who is Victory?”
“You do not know who Victory is?” she asked, in astonishment.
I shook my head in negation.
“You saved her from the elephant country people, and yet you say you do not know her!” she exclaimed.