Chapter Fifty Eight.
The Dose of Toobah.
Doctor Bolter’s was a painful position, and he could not help feeling how utterly weak man is in the midst of nature’s solitudes. He could have stood meditating for long enough, but he had to find his companion; and after shouting for some time and getting no answer, he listened for the rippling noise of the stream, and heard it sounding very faintly far-off on his right.
Making for it as a starting-place, he found the tracks he had made, the grass being trampled down in all directions. What was more, he found his trail crossed over and over again, and even followed by that of crocodiles, whose toes were marked in the mud wherever it was laid bare.
Twice over he startled one of the reptiles, which fled before him with a rush into the stream, which was little better than an overgrown ditch, and the doctor hastily backed away.
He soon found that all endeavours to hit upon his way back by the trail were useless, and once more he began to shout.
To his great delight his cry was answered, and on making for the sound he heard directly after the rustling of bushes being thrust aside, and soon after stood face to face with the Malay.
“I have been sleeping,” said the latter, smiling. “My arm is better now.”
“If our English fellows could stand injuries like these!” muttered the doctor, who looked with astonishment at the light way in which the Malay treated the terrible injury he had received.
“Do you feel as if you could lead the way back?” he said, after halting and rebinding the Malay’s wound.