“Nell, without you I shall not return, and—and in fact I don’t even know what I should do without you.”
Both became silent, and Nell fell asleep again. Stasch carried her back to the tree, but hardly had he stepped out of the dwelling than Kali came running down from the highest point of the neck of land, gesticulating with his hands, and crying out in an excited and terrified voice:
“Great Man, Great Man!”
“What do you want?” asked Stasch.
And the negro extended his hand, pointing to the south, and cried, “Smoke!”
Shading his eyes with the hollow of his hand, Stasch gazed attentively in the direction indicated, the red light of the setting sun enabling him to see a column of smoke ascending in the midst of the jungle between the peaks of two rather high hills.
Kali trembled from head to foot, for he still had a vivid recollection of their capture by the Dervishes, and he felt sure that the smoke came from their camp.
At last Stasch also thought that it must come from Smain’s camp, and so for a moment he was as much frightened as Kali. This was the climax—to have, in addition to Nell’s deadly illness, the Dervishes come upon them, to be taken prisoners again, and carried back to Fashoda or Khartum in the hands of the Mahdi, or under Abdullah’s whip! If they should be captured Nell would doubtless die the very first day, and he would be a slave for life. For, even if he were to escape, what was life, what was freedom without Nell? How could he look into the eyes of his father or Mr. Rawlison if the Dervishes were to throw Nell’s body to the hyenas and he could not tell where her grave was?
Such thoughts shot through his head like lightning. Suddenly he felt an uncontrollable desire to look at Nell, and he went toward the tree. On the way he ordered Kali to put out the fire, and forbade him building it during the night; then he entered the tree.
Nell was not asleep. She felt better, as she immediately told Stasch. Saba lay at her side and warmed her with his enormous body; she softly stroked his head and smiled when he tried to catch the little grains of mold that were flying about in the streak of light which the last rays of the setting sun threw into the hollow of the tree. She was evidently in a more cheerful mood than usual, for a little later she turned to Stasch quite pleased and said: