“I remember,” thought Hilton, as he turned away, feeling as wretched as he had ever felt in his life, “that I used to read a little fable, when I was a child, about a dog and his shadow. I’ve been running after the shadow all this time, and I have lost the substance. Unlucky dog!”
“What are you thinking about, Hilton?” said the Resident, as they stepped out of the cool, shady veranda into the blazing sunshine, and began walking towards the landing-place to embark for the Residency island.
“Thinking?” said Hilton. “Oh! I don’t know; only that it would not be of much consequence if a fellow got a Malay spear through his lungs.”
Volume Three—Chapter Nineteen.
Labour in Vain.
The fugitives had not been lying in their shady place of concealment many minutes before the loud buzz of voices and shouting ceased. Then came the whishing and brushing noise of twigs and bushes, and in the midst of the silence that followed they made out the beating of oars once more, and soon after the prahu came into sight, gliding swiftly down the stream.
As it came nearer, those in the sampan hardly dared to breathe, but crouched there, waiting patiently till the great vessel had passed.
So plainly could everything be seen in the broad sunlight that, as the crew were evidently keeping a sharp look-out on both sides, it seemed impossible, in spite of the hanging boughs, for the fugitives to remain unseen.