“Asleep, Dick?” he whispered again; and once more he laid his hand upon the poor fellow’s brow, but with no fresh result. His comrade was insensible, and as Murray bent over the mutterer a fresh chill of horror ran through him as he thought of his position.
Suppose he grew worse, and no help came. What should he do? The idea was horrible. Suppose he were to—
He determined not to dwell upon the thought, and drawing a deep breath, he whispered to himself, now full of excitement—
“That’s not the way to do any good,” he said. “It’s only playing the coward and thinking of one’s self. I’m playing with shadows.”
And setting his teeth, the middy sprang to his feet and stole quickly and silently to the doorway to peer out and listen as he gazed at the scene of beauty that opened out before him.
The rough plantation was mingled with wild growth, both of which, the cultivated and the natural, were flourishing luxuriantly. Wondrous creepers tangled themselves in the boughs which sheltered the hut from the morning sunshine, and bell-flowers of exquisite beauty hung in the pure limpid air; and as his eyes roamed here and there in search of danger, a couple of ruby-crested humming birds darted into a patch of sunshine, and chased one another round, sparkling, flashing and quivering in the light, till one of them darted away and seemed to suspend itself in front of one of the most beautiful bells, so as to probe the honied depth of the great blossom like a gigantic bee.
The lad snatched himself from this to gaze in a fresh direction, for all at once there was a prolonged whistle; but at its repetition he knew that it was no human utterance; and when fresh bird-calls came from the verdant tangle beyond the plantation, he felt encouraged by the feeling that even if there were no friends forcing their way towards the wild-looking hut in the forest, no enemy could be near, for the birds that played about were too bold.
The next thought which came to the lad’s eager, busy brain was of Tom May and his intent of the previous night to go in search of him. “But I can’t go now,” he thought, and, satisfied himself now that there was as far as he could make out no immediate danger, he hurried back to the side of Roberts, to try and take in his position and promptly decide upon his actions.
This was soon done.
There was water at hand; rough vessels in which to fetch it; and after a moment’s thought as to whether he should carry his companion out into the light, a smile crossed his lips as he thought of the old legend about carrying the well to the pitcher, and making use of his unsheathed cutlass, a few strokes resulted in his hacking away a portion of the rough leafy thatching and admitting a broad band of light right across his comrade’s reclining figure.