"Ay, on the palms."
"Torn by thorns as he crawled along," said Forrester. "He saw the glow of our fire, no doubt, and staggered towards it; you remember he said, 'Pull yourself together!' He has been pulling himself together for days, by the look of him--and it came to crawling at the last! No sign of pursuit, Sher?" he asked, as the shikari came up.
"No, sahib, there is no sound."
"Give him another dose," said Mackenzie.
After the brandy and quinine had been poured between the sick man's lips, his eyes closed and he seemed to sleep.
"We must take turns to watch him during the night," said Forrester, "and get him to my bungalow as quickly as we can to-morrow."
"If he's not away!" said Mackenzie, gloomily. "I'm no liking the looks of him."
"We'll hope for the best. Malcolm has pulled through many bad cases. We'll dose him every hour or so. I'll take first watch; you fellows turn in. I'll call one of you in three hours."
Soon the camp slept; only Forrester remained awake. He sat beside the invalid, bending forward to catch any sign of change upon the fever-flushed countenance. He rose once to replenish the fire, and once to brush away a small beetle that was crawling on the blanket. The eerie wail of a jackal broke in presently upon the lesser sounds of the night; but that was so commonly heard in Assam that Forrester scarcely noticed it.
In an hour he repeated the dose of medicine, and started involuntarily when the sick man, opening his eyes, uttered a name.