Hilton glanced at the open window, to see through the lattice-work of bamboo the deep green of the impenetrable jungle.
“Yes,” she continued, smiling at the look which came upon the young officer’s face, “we bring cunning to fight upon our side. You see that you are in the jungle; and I tell you there is but one narrow path to this place, and my people guard it night and day.”
“When they are not asleep,” muttered Chumbley.
“I made this place,” she said, “to flee to when my enemies should come. Here I am safe, and here, too, you are safe, for none but my most trusted people know the way.”
“Pleasant news this, old fellow,” said Chumbley.
“Pleasant!” cried Hilton; “but she shall smart for it. She does not think of what will be the result.”
The Inche Maida frowned as she saw his angry looks and heard his words.
“Well, old fellow,” said Chumbley; “it seems to me that we are wasting time.”
“What! are you prepared to make a dash for it?” cried Hilton.
“Not I. I mean wasting time in talking like this. I’m sorry for you, old fellow—very sorry for you; but it’s very hot and tiring this standing about. Hadn’t we better make the best of it?”