“Then,” Pant indulged in a broad grin, “what do you suppose she did after that?”
“Went down through the jungle like a scared rabbit,” suggested Johnny.
“No. You’re wrong,” Pant heaved a sigh. “She stood there for a moment. Then she turned and started back. Looking for me—wouldn’t you say?”
“Sure would.”
“But she didn’t find me,” Pant added dryly. “You bet she didn’t. I can hide, you know that, Johnny. That’s one time I did a good job of hiding.”
“Why?” Johnny stared.
“Well, you know, Johnny,” Pant replied slowly, “you can never tell what a lady will do when she discovers quite suddenly that you’ve done her a very good turn. You can’t now, can you, Johnny?”
“No, you can’t,” Johnny laughed. “You really can not. I’ve known them to throw their arms about their benefactor and—”
“Kiss him,” Pant made a face. “And that, Johnny, would have been horrible!”
“I don’t know,” Johnny said slowly. “That’s purely a matter of taste. Anyway, you were not quite fair to her. You had saved her from slavery, worse than death. You didn’t even give her a chance to thank you.”