It was broad daylight when I awoke, and my first thought was of my message, when, thrusting my hand into my breast, a curious sensation of misery came over me as my hand came in contact with a piece of wood, and it seemed that I had been dreaming and the dog had not come.
I drew out the flat piece of white wood, but it was not mine. The doctor, probably having no paper, had hit upon the same plan as I.
His words were few.
“Be on the alert. We shall come some night.”
I thrust the wooden label beneath the dust of the floor, scraped some more earth over it, and already saw myself at liberty, and in the joy of my heart I uttered a long parrot-like whistle, but it was not answered.
I whistled again, but there was no reply; and though I kept on making signals for quite an hour no response came, and the joyousness began to fade out of my breast.
Twice over that morning I saw the tall savage who was so diabolically painted and tattooed go by, and once I thought he looked very hard at my hut; but he soon passed out of my sight, leaving me wondering whether he was the chief, from his being so much alone, and the curious way in which all the people seemed to get out of his path.
Once or twice he came near enough for me to see him better, and I noticed that he walked with his eyes fixed upon the ground in a dreamy way, full of dignity, and I felt certain now that he must be the king of these people.
The next day came and I saw him again in the midst of quite a crowd, who had borne one of their number into the middle of the inclosure of huts, and this time I saw the tall strange-looking savage go slowly down upon his knees, and soon after rise and motion with his hands, when everyone but the boy fell back. He alone knelt down on one side of what was evidently an injured man.
The blacks kept their distance religiously till the painted savage signed to them once more, when they ran forward and four of their number lifted the prostrate figure carefully and carried it into a hut.