"No, sahib; badmashes might prowl at dawn, but not in the night. I think it is a bear."
The rustle recommenced, and drew nearer and nearer. The white men waited with bated breath, ready to fire the instant the beast showed itself. Hamid had not moved; he was no sportsman, and trusted the sahibs to preserve him from harm. The coolies had run behind the tent.
Moment by moment the sound grew louder. Sher Jang gazed impassively into the jungle; he was too old a hand to show any feeling; but the young planters were tingling with excitement, drew quick breaths, and itched for action. All at once the long grass parted, and in the flicker of the firelight they saw a form emerge.
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Forrester.
They lowered their rifles, and stood for a moment in hesitation. Then all three hastened forward, wondering, alarmed. The form was that of a man, clothed in European style. But he was not walking erect, as men walk. He was creeping slowly, painfully, on all fours. Seeing them advancing towards him, he uttered a faint cry and tried to rise, only to fall forward with a moan. They came to him, and lifted him to his feet.
As they approached, the man tried to rise, uttered a faint cry, then fell forward with a moan.
"Pull--yourself--together--man!" he murmured, brokenly. "Pull--yourself--together!"
"What is it, sir?" asked Forrester, feeling the man shiver in his sodden clothes.
"Hoots, man!" exclaimed Mackenzie, "get him to the fire. He's fair wandered."