THE ELOQUENT LANGUAGE OF GESTURE.
"Finally, after he had thrown a good many times, his club lodged in the tree, and I climbed up and got it. It was a good stout club—there it lies by the fire—and I thought I might have use for it, so I didn't throw it back at the savage's head, as I at first intended, but kept it for future use.
"Night came on and the savage seated himself to watch me. He kept very quiet, and made his dog stop growling and snarling. At first I didn't understand this. I began to think that he was going to offer me terms, but he didn't. At last I saw what he was at. He was waiting for me to fall asleep and drop down!
"There was nothing for it but to keep awake, and as it was very cold I had to climb about a little to keep myself comfortable, and that kept me me from falling asleep.
"The worst of it all was that I could see the big fire you fellows made, and knew what anxiety you were suffering. I sat there in the dark, hour after hour, worrying and wondering if the daylight had forgotten to come, and it was an awful time. The rain came on at last, and I was quickly wet through. The savage couldn't sit long on the ground when the floods came, so he got up and moved uneasily about, but he wouldn't go away. His persistence was 'worthy of a better cause.' After a little while he began to collect bushes to make himself a shelter, I suppose, or to sit on, or stand on—I don't know what. It was slow work in the dark, and he had to go away some little distance to get what he wanted. While he was away on one of these little trips an idea occurred to me, but as he was already on his way back I could not act upon it at once, so I sat still and waited. He went away again, fifty or seventy-five yards into the woods—I could tell by the noise he made breaking bushes. Then I tried my plan. Climbing down to the lowest limb of the tree, I could see the dog, dark as it was, standing ready to receive me. Grasping the club in my right hand, I dropped a pair of trowsers full of rice. The dog, mistaking the bundle for me, was on it in an instant, and the next instant I was on him. I dropped on him purposely, and luckily my left foot struck his neck. Of course I could not hold him long in that way, but still it gave me a moment's advantage, and during that moment I managed to deal the brute two or three blows over the head which, I think, must have crushed his skull. At any rate he grew limber under me and never uttered a sound. Hurriedly picking up the trowsers and swinging them around my neck, I was about to run when Mr. Savage came running out of the woods. I still had the club in my hand, and quick as lightning I struck him with it and took to my heels. How badly I hurt him I don't know, but not so badly as could have been wished, for he paused only for a few seconds. Then he gave chase. I ran with all my might, with him just behind. Presently I struck something with my foot—a grape-vine I suppose—and came very near to falling, but managed to save myself. Mr. Savage Thursday was not so lucky. He struck the vine fairly and came down like a big tree trunk. For a second he uttered no sound. Then I could hear him swearing in Savage, but by this time I was fifty yards ahead of him, and by the time that he decided whether to resume the chase or not I was too far away to inquire what his decision was. It was so dark that if he had followed he couldn't have found me, so I slackened my pace, and not long afterward dropped into a walk, listening occasionally to hear if he was coming. Hearing nothing, I plodded on. I didn't know just where I was, so I thought my best plan was to keep straight on until I struck the shore. I passed a group of huts about a mile from my tree, and I suppose the savages live there, as I heard dogs barking, but I didn't stop to inquire. Finally I came to the beach, and, believing that I was more than half way round the island, I turned to the right and followed the shore till I got to camp. There, that's the whole story of the strange adventures of Master Charles Black, of his exploration of Bee Island, his encounter with the savage, and his fortunate escape and return to his companions. How did you hurt your foot, Ned?"
Ned, who had risen and was limping about the fire, explained his mishap, and in their turn he and Jack told Charley of the events of the night as seen from their point of view. Their story was less exciting than Charley's, but he was deeply interested in it.