Jack pointed out a bright crimson blotch on the surface of the pool. “We've seen the last of him, poor devil,” said he with a shudder. “Say, did I tell you—no, of course I didn't—that this fellows not my lascar?”
“What, not the lascar who's been hounding us all this time?”
“The lascar who's been hounding us on the island here—yes; but not the one who tried to brain me on board the cutter and got the knife for his pains. That chap kicked the bucket shortly after he got ashore; this fellow's his brother. They're as like as two peas.”
Don vented his astonishment in a shrill whistle. “Then that accounts for it,” said he; “for there being no scar on his shoulder, I mean.”
“Precisely; and it came jolly near accounting for yours truly as well,” said Jack, with a queer little laugh and a significant shrug of the shoulders. “This fellow, you see—the one who was just now eaten by the crocodiles—raised a sort of vendetta against us when his brother died, and of course he wanted to try his hand on me first, since it was I who gave his brother his death-blow. He'd have done it, too, if it hadn't been for old Salambo. But the old man put his foot down—I overheard their talk last night, and that's how I know—and said he wouldn't allow any violence, lucky for me. He was hoping for overtures from you, I suppose. But I say, what's this about the scar? How do you know there was none on the fellow's shoulder?”
“How do I know? Why, you see, it was this way. I was swimming the creek yesterday morning—you shall hear how that came about later on, by the way—when the lascar,” indicating the crimson blotch on the pool, “tried to throttle me. I had to knock him on the head to quiet him. Then I towed him ashore, and the captain and I——”
“The captain!” cried Jack with a start. “By Jove, we've left him behind!”
The wild hurry-scurry and excitement of the last half-hour had afforded Don scant opportunity for speaking of the captain's sad end—had, indeed, driven all thought of the old sailor from his mind, as it also had from Jack's. Now that the captain was mentioned, however, Jack, naturally enough, jumped to the conclusion that he had formed one of the rescue party, and had been overlooked in their recent precipitate flight. The time was now come when he must be undeceived; but when Don attempted to disclose the sad truth emotion choked his utterance, and he could not. But Jack, gazing into his convulsed face, instinctively read there what his lips refused to utter.
“When did it happen?” he asked in a hushed, awed whisper. “And how?”
Controlling his voice with an effort, “Only last night,” faltered Don; “the lascar did it.”