Hitherto insects had troubled them little, and the advent of mosquitoes was likely to enhance their physical discomfort.
'I guess we 're near water,' remarked Hoole; 'perhaps that stream we saw running into the bay. Have the mosquitoes bit you, Trentham?'
'Not yet.'
'Nor me. They 've taken a fancy for Grinson.'
'I 'm willing they should have a bite at me,' said Meek, 'if so be they 'd let Mr. Grinson alone.'
Grinson swore again; in his present mood Meek's devotion was only less irritating than the stabs of the insects.
A glint of moonlight stole through the trees, and revealed the faces of some of the natives--ugly faces of rusty black, daubed with red and white. The prisoners felt their heart-beats quicken. But though the moonbeams lengthened the savages made no move, nor did their leader return.
The hours dragged on. One after another the four men slumbered uneasily, waking with sudden starts and tremors, always to hear the harsh voices of their guards. Towards morning they slept heavily, and were only awakened by the touch of hands upon their legs. In the dim greenish light they saw that the savages had been rejoined by the young man who had left them in the evening, and by another native resembling him, but a good deal older, wearing a high plume of feathers. The bonds about the prisoners' legs were released; they were hauled to their feet, and the two leaders made signs that they were to march. So cramped that they could scarcely move their limbs, they followed their leaders; the Papuan guards, all armed with spears, tramping in single file behind them.
'Your poor face is all swollen, Mr. Grinson,' said Meek, with a look of commiseration.
'Shut your face!' growled the boatswain ill-temperedly.