This last was received by the sick man from the doctor’s messenger; and no sooner was he gone than it was observable that the invalid rose from the mat upon which he had lain. He laughingly stole off to the river-side, where he entered a sampan, and paddled away after his companions, one of whom had left him to personate the only messenger who had been able to reach the station, though only then to fail in eluding the keenness of those who watched every house, and who kept their eyes upon the doctor, when half an hour later, totally regardless of the heat of the sun, he embarked in a boat and was paddled up the river by a couple of men, the companions of former excursions, old friends, whom he knew he could trust.
There were several boats lying lazily upon the water, with sleepy-looking Malays in each, and as the doctor’s swift little vessel pushed off, eyes that had looked sleepy before opened widely and watched his departure.
“Shall we follow?” said one man, in a low voice.
“No; he goes to shoot birds. Let him be.”
The sun poured down his rays like silver flames through the leaves of the cocoa-palms; and while the doctor’s boat grew smaller and smaller till it turned a bend in the stream, the occupants of the sampans lying so idly about the landing-stage exchanged glances from time to time, but seemed asleep whenever the owner of a white face drew near.
Volume Two—Chapter Twenty.
Murad’s Slave.
It was with a feeling that something dreadful had happened that Helen opened her eyes and stared wildly about her. How long she had been insensible she could not tell, but her impression was that very few minutes had elapsed since she was struggling with her assailants.