The sight of the telephone wire awakened within me the senseless notion that I might summon assistance from some neighboring village. I left my shoes and trousers in charge of the Australian and dashed through the stream and into the government bungalow. At the first call I “got” someone. Who or where he was I could not guess. I bawled into the receiver English, French, German, and all the Hindustanee I could muster. When I paused for breath the unknown subscriber had “rung off.” I jangled the bell and shook and pounded the apparatus for five minutes. A glass-eyed lizard ran out along the wire and stared down upon me. His mate in the thatch above screeched mockingly. Then another voice sounded faintly in my ear.
“Hello!” I shouted, “Who’s this? We want to eat. D’ you speak English? Dō sahib hai, Kathái Ywá. Send us some—”
A flood of meaningless jabber interrupted me. Two words I caught,—that old, threadbare phrase “nămelay-voo.” I had rung up a Burman; but he was no babu.
“English!” I shrieked. “Anyone there that speaks English? We’re sahibs! Hello! Hello, I say! Hello—”
A Laos carrier crossing the stream that separates Burma from Siam
No answer. Central had cut me off again. I rang the bell until my arm was lame and listened breathlessly. All was still. I dropped the receiver and tumbled out of the hut determined to throttle one of the Laos carriers. In the middle of the stream I slipped on a stone and fell on my knees, the water to my armpits. The startled ducks ran away before me. I snatched up a club and pursued them through the village and back to the creek again, the inhabitants screaming in my wake. I threw the weapon at the nearest fowl. It was only a joint of bamboo and fell short. The ducks took to the water. I plunged in after them and once more fell sprawling.
Before I could scramble to my feet a shout sounded near at hand, and I looked up to see the squad of soldiers breaking out of the jungle. They halted before the government bungalow and watched my approach with deep-set grins. The sergeant, understanding my gestures, offered us places around the common rice heap. I returned to the rest-house for my nether garments. The villagers were driving their panting ducks homeward. The Australian struggled to his feet and we waded the stream once more, joining the soldiers on the veranda of the government bungalow. Their porters brought huge wet leaves to protect the floor, and built a fire within. A half-hour later the troopers rose to their feet shouting, “Kin-kow! Kin-kow!” easily understood from its similarity to the familiar Chinese word “chow,” and we followed them into the smoke-choked building. In a civilized land I would not have tasted such a mess as was spread out on a banana leaf in the center of the floor, to win a wager. At that moment it seemed a repast fit for an epicure.
We slept with the soldiers in the telephone bungalow. James’ fever burned itself out and he awoke with the dawn ready to push on. For the first few miles we followed a path below the telephone wire. In stumbling over the uneven ground my shoe-laces broke at frequent intervals. Well on in the morning I halted to replace them with stout vines. The Australian drew on ahead. Before I had overtaken him the path forked and the wire disappeared in the forest between the diverging routes. I hallooed to my companion, but the rain was coming down in torrents, and the voice does not carry far in the jungle. I struck into one of the paths; but in a very few minutes it faded and was lost. I found myself alone in the trackless wilderness.
Here was a serious mishap indeed. The Australian had carried off the compass; our money was in my bundle. Separated we were equally helpless, and what chance was there of finding each other again in hundreds of miles of unblazed wilds?