But Hannibal did not cease to row a steady stroke, though I saw his forehead wrinkle up, and there was a wild look of misery in his eyes.
We had passed round the wooded point in safety, and soon after were well out of our stream and in the big river, when, seeing that we were beyond the reach of arrows, the rowing was slackened a little, just as, to the great delight of all, Pomp showed signs of recovery.
I was bending over him after dipping the tin full of water once more, and began to trickle a little water on his forehead, when flip, the tin went flying, the water sparkling in the sun, and a quantity of it sprinkling Hannibal where he sat, while it was all so sudden that I burst out laughing, for Pomp’s familiar voice rang out sharply and angrily—
“Don’t do dat.”
Then memory must have come back like a flash, for the boy’s hands seized me as I bent over and touched him, his eyes opened and glared at me, he showed his teeth viciously, and then let his hands drop, and he sank back.
“Mass’ George!” he said, feebly. “Ah, Pomp know all de time. Mass’ George play trick. Pash water, and—” Then with a sudden fierce change of manner—“Run, Mass’ George—run—quick—what gone long dem Injum?”
He looked round wildly.
“They are gone, Pomp,” I said; and I shivered a little as I spoke. “We’re quite safe now. Drink a little water.”
I raised his head, and held the refilled water-can to his lips, when he drank with avidity.
“Are you better?”