“My poor father!” I moaned.
“I spoke to him and told him help was near,” continued Mr Francis; “and then—”
He muttered something in the savages’ tongue, and then broke down and began to sob.
“Take no notice,” the doctor whispered to me, as I stood trembling there, feeling as I did that I was only a few yards from him we had come to save, and who was lying bound there waiting for the help that seemed as if it would never come.
The doctor realised my feelings, for he came a little closer and pressed my hand.
“Don’t be downhearted, my lad,” he whispered; “we are a long way nearer to our journey’s end than when we started.”
“Yes!” I said; “but—”
“But! Nonsense, boy! Why, we’ve found your father. We know where he is; and if we can’t get him away by stratagem, we’ll go to another tribe of the blacks, make friends with them, and get them to fight on our side.”
“Nonsense, doctor!” I said bitterly. “You are only saying this to comfort me.”
“To get you to act like a man,” he said sharply. “Shame upon you for being so ready to give up in face of a few obstacles!”