Bildad, however, made no attempt to leave his place on the rugs. He kept on talking to himself at intervals, his eyes staring vacantly out on the river.
A dingy leopard skin was still bound around his loins, and suddenly seizing the end of it he began to chew it greedily.
Then he noticed the blood still sticking to his fingers, and placing his hand in his mouth he sucked it with a hollow noise that made Guy sick.
Suddenly his eyes became fixed and glaring, his hands dropped to his side, trembling nervously, and his lips parted in a wolfish expression, that displayed two rows of glistening teeth.
A thrill of horror ran through Guy from head to foot as he saw what had unmistakably fascinated Bildad's gaze. Two yards distant, facing the savage, lay Sir Arthur, propped up slightly among the rugs. His head was thrown back, and in the perspiration, caused probably by his slight fever, he had torn loose the fore part of his flannel shirt, so that the throat and part of the breast were fully exposed, and shone clearly in the soft glow from the fire.
To Chutney Bildad's wolfish gaze admitted of no misconstruction. The sight of the white flesh had roused the savage's fiercest instincts. At that moment Bildad was a cannibal at heart!
No words can describe Guy's feelings as he realized the awful truth.
At first a deadly faintness threatened to deprive him of all consciousness. Then came a thrill of strength, and his quick mind sought some plan of action. There was no weapon within reach. He must waken the Greek.
"Canaris," he muttered in a low voice, but the word stuck in his throat and died away in a whisper.
The sound, slight as it was, drew Bildad's attention. A glance at Guy's frightened countenance told him his horrible design was discovered. His thick lips parted in a glare of ferocious hatred—the blind fury of a madman.