Noel nodded. "Cracked thing to do, but as he's bagged his game I suppose he'll do it again."
"And what is he doing now?" asked Olga, as they descended the narrow path.
"Oh, he was going to clear out. He was awfully disgusted that the skin wasn't worth having. And there wasn't much of the head left." Noel made a face. "I shouldn't advise any of our picnic party to go near that beastly temple. It's a deal too sacrificial just now. Hullo! Here come some of 'em at last! You'll be glad to get back under Nick's wing."
He smiled at her quizzically, and Olga smiled back reassured. But reaching the lower ground, she detained him for an instant.
"Noel," she said rather haltingly, "there are some things beyond words, and—and I think this is one of them. But I shall never forget what you did. It—it was—magnificent."
"Great Scotland!" said Noel. He spoke banteringly, but she could not meet his eyes. "And you think I could have done anything else?"
She smiled rather wistfully. "Not you—perhaps," she said. "But it was fine of you all the same."
"And you're—not sorry—I wasn't eaten?" he suggested.
She gave him her hand with a gesture half-appealing. "We won't talk about it," she said. "It just won't bear talking about."
Her voice trembled a little but she was plainly anxious that he should not notice it. He stood a moment silent, holding her hand. From the direction of the jungle-road there came the sounds of the approaching party—the rattle of hoofs and jingle of bells mingling with laughing voices and gay shouts. It seemed incredible that a bare ten minutes had elapsed since their own arrival upon the scene.