Jack had his eye at a huge crack in the door, and to his immense relief he made out at last a couple of figures approaching the house under the dim shade of the trees.
"Here they are," he breathed. "She's brought it off all right. I can make out Me Dain."
Two seconds later the Burman shot into the hut with a stealthy, noiseless glide.
"Come on," he said. "Not stop at all. She tell me everything."
Away they went at once, Me Dain leading the way, with Jack and his father close behind. The Burman dodged round the corner of the hut, and struck at once into a hard well-trodden path which was at once swallowed up in the thick shade of a close-set grove of bamboos. It was a path leading to a pagoda much frequented by the villagers, and would show no sign by which they might be tracked on the morrow. Me Dain had made himself familiar with the ins and outs of the place, and he marched forward with a swift and assured step. Luckily, the hut stood right on the outskirts of the village, and in a few moments they were out of sight of any house, and when they turned aside from the path to the pagoda they soon left behind all sign of human presence.
As they crossed a little clearing, Jack thought he heard a soft footfall in their rear. He turned, and saw, to his surprise, that the native woman was a short distance behind them, with her child in her arms.
"Why," said Jack, "the woman of the hut is following us."
"Yes," replied Me Dain. "She must come, sahib. If U Saw catch her, he burn her alive for hiding you."
"Likely enough, the unspeakable brute," murmured Mr. Haydon. "We must put the poor woman in a place of safety, Me Dain. We owe her a great deal."
"She not want to stop in that place, anyhow, sahib," replied the Burman. "She belong to a village over the hills. She want to go back, now her husband is dead."