In a moment there was a tremendous excitement in the hut before us, the savages swarming out like angry bees, and almost at the same moment the whole shape of the great long hut stood out against the sky.
“The village is on fire!” whispered the doctor. “Back, my boy! Francis, quick!”
He shook the sleeping man, whom all at once I could see, and he rose rather feebly. Then we backed slowly more and more in amongst the trees, seeing now that one of the light palm-leaf and bamboo huts was blazing furiously, and that another had caught fire, throwing up the cluster of slight buildings into clear relief, while as we backed farther and farther in amongst the trees we could see the blacks—men, women, and children—running to and fro as if wild.
“Now would be the time,” said the doctor. “We might take advantage of the confusion and get your father away.”
“Yes!” I cried excitedly. “I’m ready!”
“Stop for your lives!” said a voice at our elbow, and turning I saw Mr Francis, with his swarthy face lit up by the fire. “You could not get near the hut now without being seen. If you had acted at the moment the alarm began you might have succeeded. It is now too late.”
“No, no!” I cried. “Let us try.”
“It is too late, I say,” cried Mr Francis firmly. “The village is on fire, and the blacks must see you. If you are taken now you will be killed without mercy.”
“We must risk it,” I said excitedly, stepping forward.
“And your father too.”