The manager’s neck was a sorry sight; the cords and muscles had been twisted and almost pulled bodily from the broad throat.
“He’ll have an awfully sore throat when he wakes up,” Sydney said quietly.
“We must get him to a doctor at once,” Phil exclaimed. “Avao, call to those slave boys. We must have him carried to town.”
The Tapau called, and several of the blacks started toward them.
Then Phil thought of the native boy who had come to his aid. He feared for him. He knew that some cruel and unheard-of punishment would be given to the native that dared to so roughly handle the manager of the Kapuan firm. Death even was not impossible, especially as the native was a relative of Tuamana.
“Avao,” he whispered, “tell the boy to go away far and not come back until you send him word.”
“He knows, Alii,” Avao replied. The boy pressed his forehead hurriedly to the girl’s hand, and then murmuring, “Tofa, Alii,”[36] with a cheerful grin vanished into the “bush,” just as the first of the Solomon Islanders arrived to raise their fallen master.
With Klinger carried on the shoulders of several black boys, and with the Americans bringing up the rear, the party proceeded toward the town.
Fortunately a carriage was hitched at the British consulate and the driver sitting in the shade near by. They put Klinger inside, while Phil and Sydney remained to support him, and thus they drove hurriedly to Klinger’s residence back of the store.
“This isn’t going to improve the kind feeling between us and the ‘de facto’ government,” Phil said.