I am afraid Uncle Naboth swore. He is a mild mannered old gentleman, but having taken a strong liking for the beautiful girl he perhaps could find no other way, on the impulse of the moment, to express his feelings.
“Well,” he remarked, after we had looked blankly into one another’s faces for a time, “we must get her back again, that’s all.”
“Of course, sir,” agreed Duncan, rousing himself. “We will go at once.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Three o’clock,” answered my uncle, promptly.
“Then let us wait until morning,” I advised. “The Indians already have a good start of us and there would be no chance to overtake them before they regain the king’s village. We must be cautious and lay our plans carefully if we hope to succeed.”
“Perhaps you are right,” returned Duncan, wearily. “But I swear to you, Sam, that I will find Ilalah and bring her back with me, or perish in the attempt.”
I smiled at his theatric manner, but Uncle Naboth said seriously:
“I don’t blame you a bit, sir. That girl is worth a heap o’ trouble, and you can count on me to help you to the last gasp.”
“Well, well,” said I, impatiently, “let us get dressed and go on deck to talk it over.” I well knew there would be no more sleep for us that night, and although I was not in love with the lost princess I was as eager to effect her rescue as Moit himself.