In a low tone he said, in Hindustani, "Wake up, man!"
The soldier moved a little. Stanley repeated the words in a somewhat louder tone, and the trooper sprang to his feet, and looked round in a bewildered way.
"Come to the window," Stanley said. "It is I, your officer."
The man's glance turned to the window but, surprised at seeing a Burmese peasant--as he supposed--instead of the officer, he stood hesitating.
"Come on," Stanley said. "I am Lieutenant Brooke."
The soldier recognized the voice, drew himself up, made the military salute, and then stepped to the window.
"I have come," Stanley said, "to try and rescue Lieutenant Brooke, and yourself. I have some friends without. How is he?"
"He is very ill, sir. He is badly wounded, and is unconscious. Sometimes he lies for hours without moving; sometimes he talks to himself but, as I cannot understand the language, I know not what he says; but sometimes he certainly calls upon you. He uses your name often.
"I do what I can for him, but it is very little. I bathe his forehead with water, and pour it between his lips. Of course he can eat nothing, but I keep the water my rice is boiled in and, when it is cool, give it him to drink. There is some strength in it."
"Then nothing can be done, at present," Stanley said. "Tomorrow night I will bring some fruit. You can squeeze the juice of some limes into a little water, and give it to him. There is nothing better for fever. As soon as he is well enough for us to get him through the palisades, we will have a litter ready for him, and carry him off; but nothing can be done until then.