For the man, just as he relapsed into unconsciousness, murmured four words.
"Help—me debbil man!"
CHAPTER X
MOWBRAY'S END
"He iss starved," exclaimed von Hofe. "See what iss in the hut. I will care for him."
Charlie, Jack and Schoverling, with a single glance of amazement at the words of the senseless Arab, advanced to the hut while the Indians clustered about von Hofe. The shelter was a crude one, of bushes and grass, built against the trunk of one of the great mimosas.
"There's a man in here!" cried Charlie as they stood in the doorway.
Before them, lying on a bed of leaves, was the figure of a man in European clothes. His head, one arm, and side were bound in blood-stained bandages. On his chest lay his right hand, still gripping a pencil, while on his knees lay an old letter, scribbled over. With a cry of pity, Schoverling knelt at the man's side—but started up again in horror.