“Your young friend has had a narrow escape,” said the recluse, as he knelt down and took Arthur’s hand; “he breathes, though, and is not aware of what has happened, for the anaconda must have seized him while he was unconscious.”
We ran to the river. The dry shells of several large nuts lay near. In these we brought some water, and bathed Arthur’s brow and face. “He seems unhurt by the embrace of the anaconda,” remarked the recluse, “but probably suffered from the heat of the sun.”
After this he lifted Arthur in his arms, and bore him up the bank. John and I followed with a shell of water. The contrast between the hot sandy bank and the shady wood was very great. As we again applied the water, Arthur opened his eyes. They fell on the recluse, on whom he kept them steadily fixed with a look of surprise.
“I thought John and Harry were with me,” he murmured out. “I heard their voices calling as I lay fainting on the bank.”
“Yes; we are here,” John and I said, coming forward. “Duppo and his sister met us, and brought us to you.”
“I am so glad,” he said in a low voice. “I began to fear that you were really lost, we wandered on so far without finding you. I felt ready to die too, I was so sick at heart. And your sister—is she safe?” he asked. “Oh yes; I am sure you would look more sad if she were not.”
“Yes, she is safe and well, Arthur,” I said; “and we must take you there to be nursed, or, if it is too far to carry you, we must build a hut somewhere near here, where we can join you.”
The stranger looked at Arthur, and murmured something we did not hear.
“It is a long way to carry the lad,” he said; “though if I had him in my hut I would watch over him.”
“Perhaps it may be better to build a hut at the spot we proposed, and bring our sister and goods to it,” I said.