He had not eaten such food for days, he told the eager party. To their questions about Tom he made one statement, and of course the chums had no way of guessing that it was false.
“Tom and Bill,” he declared, “they got took with fever. Not bad, but some. Bill found a good Indian doctor and he’s pulling them along.”
He told of his experiences in running the rapids and it was very probable that his story was not over-false as he recounted the thrills and dangers of his fight with the surging waters and the perilous rocks.
He had managed to get through by good fortune, he declared. Then he had gone on down the river until he came near the quarantine, and had deserted his canoe and gone into the brush. He happened to know of an inland village and he had made his way to that.
There he had found a guide who, on the promise of all the money he had, took him through the jungle, around the quarantined post. From there he had followed the river again, borrowing a canoe and avoiding every human habitation because he was in the fever zone. Once more, at the lower point of the infected area, he had taken to the brush, and with many privations, eating what he could find in the woods, or what game he could shoot, he had finally won out.
He made the tale a strong appeal for sympathy and fed his own vanity on the admiration of the chums.
All unsuspecting of his villainous desertion, he was made a sort of hero. Only Nicky seemed to be quiet and thoughtful. Finally he interrupted the second recital, late in the evening. Henry recalled some additional details of his misery, and repeated the whole story to get them in their proper places.
“Why didn’t you stay with Tom and Bill?” Nicky said finally. It seemed strange to him that Henry should have deserted his comrades.
“I left them on purpose,” Henry said. “’Cause why? ’Cause they sent me. They told me to come. They wanted me to. ’Cause why? They sent you a message!”
“Why haven’t you told it?” cried Cliff.