Chapter Twenty Nine.
Building of the “Hope.”
What had thus suddenly made the Malays take to flight remained a mystery. Forgetting my own wound, my first impulse was to run down and see after Oliver. I met Emily, who threw herself into my arms.
“He is better, he is better!” she exclaimed. “The good Frau has, I believe, saved his life.”
“We are all saved, my dear sister,” I said. “The enemy have taken to flight, and we hope will not come back again.”
“And he will be saved—he will not die,” she again said, leading me to where Oliver was lying on a bed of leaves.
The Frau had torn off his jacket and shirt, and I found that, like Queen Eleanor, who saved her husband’s life, she had been sucking the poison, if there was any, from the wound, and was now carefully bathing it.
“I do not think I am much hurt,” said Oliver, looking up as I entered. “The good Frau has tended me so kindly and carefully, that I am sure I shall soon get better.”
When the Frau had finished with Oliver, I begged her to look at my head, and, greatly to my relief, I found that the point of the arrow had not entered the flesh; the pain was caused by the shaft, which had passed over my head, only carrying away some of the hair. While the Frau was making the examination, Emily and Grace stood trembling, watching the result. Emily now threw herself on my neck and burst into tears, while little Grace took my hand, and exclaimed,—“I am so thankful! I am so thankful that neither you nor Oliver are likely to suffer.”