“Absurd!”
“Oh, but he did, sir, in his language, which of course I could not understand; but he did something insulting which I could. For there was no doubt about that—he spat at me, sir—regularly spat at me, and then snarled as much as to say, ‘Take that! You come within reach, and I’ll bite you!’”
“They’re not pleasant creatures,” said Frank quietly, glancing round.
“No, sir, they’re not, indeed; and that isn’t the worst of it.”
“Then what is?”
“Why, this, sir: instead of going comfortably to one’s night’s rest, I’ve got to mount one of the ugly, sneering brutes, and he’ll play at see-saw with me and make me as miserable as he can, turning my poor back into a sort of hinge. Ugh! I haven’t forgotten my last dose.”
“Don’t talk to me any more,” said Frank, in a low tone of voice; “here are some of the other men coming.”
“To take down the patients’ tent, I suppose, sir.”
Frank made no reply, but Sam was right, for they quickly and quietly lowered and folded the young chiefs tent, leaving him only a rug to lie upon, after placing the tent ready to be fetched by one of their camels.
Seeing this, Frank went to where the weak, helpless man lay exposed to the cool night air and turned one side of the rich rug gently over him, receiving for thanks a gentle tap or two upon the arm.