"Stop, stop, my lad!" shouted Mr. Desborough. "Throwing at monkeys will not do. Come in here."
Oliver darted into the counting-house, fully believing the riot he had been anticipating among the men was already in full swing among the monkeys.
"They are hunimans, my boy, the most sacred of all the monkey tribe. Had you hurt one of them you might have paid for it with your life. Timid and peaceable as my men appear, they would have mobbed you in a moment," exclaimed Mr. Desborough.
"Peaceable!" repeated Oliver; "why, they are yelling like furies."
"Oh, they are watching the locusts. Can't you see them coming?" replied Mr. Desborough, pointing to the rapidly-moving cloud, which seemed extending itself in every direction, darkening the air as it came.
"Strange," said the boy; "but I have something here for you that is stranger still."
As he was speaking Oliver unpacked a lump of clayey earth, and showed it to him with an elation he could scarcely conceal.
"Look at that, Mr. Desborough. Do you see those marks? What are they?" he demanded breathlessly. "The print of a child's foot," he added, after a momentary pause. "The most sagacious hunter among the hills dug it up two nights ago at the entrance of the koond by the ruined temple. It is proof positive that a wild child is wandering in the jungle. Can it be your lost little one?"
The father's hand trembled as he held up the lump of earth to the fast-decreasing light.
"Send for Iffley!" he exclaimed.