“Ilalah sends it to the big white slave,” said the woman, in her native dialect.
“The big white slave thanks Ilalah and sends her his love in return,” I answered, laughing. But she nodded and turned away with a serious countenance, as if the message was no more than she had expected.
I handed the basket to Duncan and gave him the message of the princess. His face lighted up and he blushed like a school-boy, but made no comment.
In the basket were some fresh eggs and a roasted fowl that resembled a pheasant in size and flavor. We cooked the eggs over our alcohol stove and blessed the girl for her thoughtfulness, for her contribution was a grateful addition to our tinned foods.
As darkness came on we lighted our lamps and drew our curtains and after a little further discussion as to our future actions we lay down upon our blankets and prepared to pass a second peaceful night in the heart of the enemy’s country.
It must have been about midnight when I was awakened by a strange crackling sound. For a moment I lay still, wondering what it could be; then I sprang up and opened one of the little windows.
Dense smoke was rising all around the automobile, and thrusting out my head I saw a mass of flames underneath us. I drew back quickly, my eyes smarting from the smoke, and closed the orifice.
The interior of the car was now dimly illumined by a dull red glow. Moit was sitting up when I reached out to touch him.
“What is it?” he asked sleepily.
“They have built a great bonfire underneath us,” I answered. “Will it be likely to do any damage?”