“He loves thee, also,” said Akaza, as Yermah patted the animal on the head. He was on his feet in a moment.
“Oghi! Here, sir!” called the Dorado, recovering the chain which had been dragged through the mud. “How could he get in here?”
“We will tie him to one of the brass staples leaded into the wall at the entrance,” returned Akaza, “and then we can find out.”
Oghi made no resistance as he was led to the spot indicated.
“He has dug in under these shutters,” said Yermah, as he held the light so that his companion could see. “How could he have known I was here?”
As he spoke the ocelot shook himself, and was about to lie down.
“Let me fix him a bed,” said his master; “he is a good fellow. There sir!”
Hastily gathering up some rush mats, Yermah threw them down in a pile. Oghi could not say “Thank you,” but he signified it the best way that he could. With a final affectionate pat on the head, Yermah turned and followed Akaza.
“Come to bed with me,” he urged. “Conscience forbids my sleeping while thou art denied rest.”
Akaza yielded to persuasion; and when Yermah had deftly tucked the rugs about him, and placed the cushions, after shaking them up thoroughly, so that Akaza declared himself comfortable, he extinguished all lights but one, and cuddled up close beside the elder man, with his right arm thrown protectingly over him.