“Let us go across to the doctor’s,” said Mr Harley. “There is the chance of his being back. I really feel that, urgent as our necessities are, we must not start without him.”
“We ought to have him,” replied Hilton. “We are sure to have some wounded.”
“And wounds are awful in this climate, if not attended to at once.”
“Yes,” assented the Resident. “Will you come with us, Perowne?”
“No,” said that gentleman, dreamily. “I shall stay until the expedition starts.”
Mr Perowne seated himself upon a low stool, and buried his face in his hands, looking so utterly prostrate, that the Resident crossed to his side, bent down over him and whispered:
“For heaven’s sake, be hopeful! I am straining every nerve to get the expedition off!”
“But you are so long—so long!” moaned the wretched man.
“Do not you reproach me,” said Mr Harley. “Have some pity for my position. I am even now going beyond my tether in what I am doing; and I hardly dare take a party of men up in this jungle without a doctor with us! Perowne, on my honour, I am burning to go to Helen’s help; but I am tied down by red tape at every turn. You don’t know what such a position as mine really is!”
“Go and see if Bolter has come back,” said Mr Perowne, coldly.