"My two—Adong and Lahn—Sahib Harry?" said the old hunter with a little laugh. "I have always been like a father to them, and they would follow me, even if it were to be killed."
"And you, Sree?" the said doctor bitterly; "why should you be faithful to us?"
"I don't know, Sahib," said the man simply; "only that Sahib Kenyon has been like a father to me ever since he brought me back here to my people from among the Indian sahibs, where I had lived for years. He has always been my good, kind master, who fed me when I was hungry, and gave me money to buy clothes. I don't know how it is, but I feel that I belong to him and the young Sahib Harry; and if they said to me, 'Sree, you must die that we may escape and live,' well, it would only be what I should do, and I should be happy. Yes, sahibs, I should die."
"I know you would, Sree," whispered Harry, leaning over to grasp the man's hands. "He would, wouldn't he, father?"
"Yes, my boy, I believe he would. He has saved my life more than once."
"Oh, I believe in Sree, too," said the doctor excitedly. "But those we love are perishing close by, and we are doing nothing."
"I know what we might do," said Harry eagerly.
"Yes, what?" said the doctor.
"Wait till to-morrow night."
"Wait till to-morrow night!" echoed the doctor bitterly. "Wait while they perish!"