Chapter XVIII: Part 18

The head was the best, but then in the hurry and excitement they might miss it, and he might not turn his shoulder, so they decided that whoever was on the watch at the moment should aim at the body of the creature so as to be certain to plant a bullet in it. If he was once hit, his rage and desire of revenge would prevent him from going away; he would attack the cage, and while he was venting his rage on the bars there would be time to load and fire again.

“And put the muzzle close to his head the second time,” said Mark.

“Certain to kill then.”

They sat down inside the cage and imagined the position the beast would be in when it approached them. Mark was to load the matchlock for the second shot in any case, while Bevis sent arrow after arrow into the creature. Pan was to be tied up with a short cord, else perhaps the tiger or panther would insert a paw and kill him with a single pat.

“But it’s so long to wait,” said Mark. “He won’t come till the middle of the night.”

“He’s been in the day when we were out,” said Bevis. “Suppose we go up on the cliff, leave the gate open, and if he comes shoot down at him?”

“Come on.”

They went up on the cliff, just behind the spiked stakes, taking with them the gun, the axe, and bow and arrows. If the beast entered the enclosure they could get a capital shot down at him, nor could he leap up, he would have to go some distance round to get at them, and meantime the gun could be reloaded. They waited, nothing entered the stockade but a robin.

“This is very slow,” said Mark.

“Very,” said Bevis. “What’s the use of waiting? Suppose we go and hunt him up.”

“In the wood?”

“Everywhere--sedges and fern--everywhere.”

“Hurrah!”

Up they jumped full of delight at the thought of freedom again. It was so great a relief to move about that they ignored the danger. Anything was better than being forced to stay still.

“If he’s on the island we’ll find him.”

“Leave the gate open, that we may run in quick.”

“Perhaps he’ll go in while we’re away, then we can just slip up on the cliff, and fire down--”

“Jolly!”

“Look very sharp.”

“Blow the match.”

They entered among the trees, following the path which led round the island. Bevis carried the matchlock, Mark the bow and arrows and axe, and it was arranged that the moment Bevis had fired he was to pass the gun to Mark, and take his bow. While he shot arrows, Mark was to load and shoot as quick as he could. The axe was to be thrown down on the ground, so that either could snatch it up if necessary. All they regretted was that they had not got proper hunting-knives.

First they went down to the raft moored to the alder bough as usual, then on to the projecting point where Mark once fished; on again to where the willow-tree lay overthrown in the water, and up to the firs under which they had reclined. Then they went to the shore at the uttermost southern extremity and sent Pan into the sedges. He drove out a moorhen, but they did not shoot at it now, not daring to do so lest the beast should attack them before they could load again.

Coming up the western side of the island, they once thought they saw something in the bushes, but found it to be the trunk of a fallen tree. In going inland to Kangaroo Hill they moved more slowly as the wood was thicker, and intent on the slightest indication, the sudden motion of a squirrel climbing a beech startled them. From the top of the green knoll they looked all round, and thus examined the glade. There was not the slightest sign. The feathers of a wood-pigeon were scattered on the grass in one place, where a hawk had struck it down. This had happened since they were last at the glade. It was probably one of the pigeons that roosted in the ivy-grown oak.

Crossing to the oak, they flung sticks up into the ivy; there was no roar in response. While here they remembered the wires, and looked at them, but there was nothing caught, which they considered a proof that the rabbits were afraid to venture far from their burries while the tiger, or whatever beast it was, was prowling about at night.

Returning to the shore, they recollected a large bed of sedges and reed-grass a little way back, and going there Bevis shot an arrow into it. The arrow slipped through the reed-grass with a slight rustle till it was lost. The spaniel ran in and they heard him plunging about. There was nothing in the reed-grass.

Lastly they went to the thicket of “wait-a-bit” blackthorn. Pan did go in, and that was as much, he soon came out, he did not like the blackthorn. But by throwing stones and fragments of dead branches up in the air so that they should descend into the midst of the thicket they satisfied themselves that there was nothing in it. It was necessary to cast the stones and sticks up into the air because they would not penetrate if thrown horizontally.

The circuit of the island was completed, and they now crept up quietly to the verge of the cliff behind the spiked stakes. The stockade was exactly as they had left it; Pan looked over the edge of the cliff into it, and did not even sniff. They went down and rested a few minutes.

There never was greater temerity than this searching the island for the tiger. Neither the bullet nor their arrows would have stayed the advance of that terrible beast for a moment. Inside their stockade and cage they might withstand him; in the open he would have swept them down just as a lady’s sleeve might sweep down the chessmen on the board. Thus in his native haunts he overthrows a crowd of spear-armed savages.

“He can’t be on the island,” said Mark.

“It’s curious we did not see any sign,” said Bevis. “There are no marks or footprints anywhere.”

“If there was some clay now--wet clay,” said Mark, “but it’s all sandy; his claws would show in clay like Pan’s.”

“Like a crab.” Pan’s footprint in moist clay was somewhat crab-shaped.

“Is there no place where he would leave a mark?”

“Just at the edge of the water the moorhens leave footprints.”

“That would be the place, only we can’t look very close to the edge everywhere.”

“There’s the raft; we could on the raft.”

“Shall we go on the raft?”

“Suppose we go all round the island?” said Bevis, “on the raft.”

“We never have been,” said Mark. “Not close to the shore.”

“No; let us pole round close to the shore--all round, and see if we can find any spoor in the shallows.”

They went to the raft and embarked. As they started a crimson glow shot along under the clouds, the sun was sinking and the sky beamed. The wind had risen and the wavelets came splash, splash against the edge of the raft. Some of the yellow leaves of the willows floated along and fell on the deck. They poled slowly and constantly grounded or struck the shore, so that it occupied some time to get round, especially as at the southern extremity it was so shallow they were obliged to go a long way out.

In about an hour they reached the thick bed of reed-grass into which Bevis had shot his arrow, and as the raft slowly glided by Mark suddenly exclaimed, “There it is!”

There it was--a path through the reed-grass down to the water’s edge-- the trail of some creature. Bevis stuck his pole into the ground to check the onward movement of the raft. The impetus of the heavy vessel was so great though moving slowly that it required all his strength to stay it. Mark came with his pole, and together they pushed the raft back, and it ran right up into the reed-grass and grounded. Pan instantly leapt off into the path, and ran along it wagging his tail; he had the scent, though it seemed faint as he did not give tongue. They stood at the bulwark of the raft and looked at the trail.

Volume Three, Chapter XII.

NEW FORMOSA--THE TRAIL.

At the water’s edge some flags were bent, and then the tall grass, as high as their chests, was thrust aside, forming a path which had evidently been frequently trodden. There was now no longer the least doubt that the creature, whatever it was, was of large size, and as the trail was so distinct the thought occurred to them both at once that perhaps it had been used by more than one. From the raft they could see along it five or six yards, then it turned to avoid an alder. While they stood looking Pan came back, he had run right through and returned, so that there was nothing in the reed-bed at present.

Bevis stepped over the bulwark into the trail with the matchlock; Mark picked up the axe and followed. As they walked their elbows touched the grass each side, which showed that the creature was rather high than broad, lean like the whole feline tribe, long, lean, and stealthy. The reed-grass had flowered and would soon begin to stiffen and rustle dry under the winds. By the alder a bryony vine that had grown there was broken and had withered, it had been snapped long since by the creature pushing through.

The trail turned to the right, then to the left round a willow stole, and just there Pan, who trotted before Bevis, picked up a bone. He had picked it up before and dropped it; he took it again from habit, though he knew it was sapless and of no use to him. Bevis took it from his mouth, and they knew it at once as a duck’s drumstick. It was polished and smooth, as if the creature had licked it, or what was more probable carried it some distance, and then left it as useless. They had no doubt it was a drumstick of the wild duck Mark shot.

The trail went straight through sedges next, these were trampled flat; then as the sedges grew wider apart they gradually lost it in the thin, short grass. This was why they had not seen it from the land, there the path began by degrees; at the water’s edge, where the grasses were thick and high, it was seen at once. Try how they would, they could not follow the trail inland, they thought they knew how to read “sign,” but found themselves at fault. On the dry, hard ground the creature’s pads left no trail that they could trace. Mark cut off a stick with the axe and stuck it up in the ground so that they could find the spot where the path faded when walking on shore, and they then returned to the raft. On the way they caught sight of Bevis’s arrow sticking in the trunk of the alder, and withdrew it.

At the water’s edge they looked to see if there was any spoor. In passing through the reed-grass the creature had trampled it down, and so walked on a carpet of vegetation which prevented any footprints being left on the ground though it was moist there. At the water’s edge perhaps they might have found some, but in pushing the raft up the beams had rubbed over the mud and obliterated everything. When they got on the raft they looked over the other bulwark, and a few yards from the shore noticed that the surface of the weeds growing there appeared disturbed.

The raft was moved out, and they found that the weeds had been trampled; the water was very shallow, so that the creature in approaching the shore had probably plunged up and down as the spaniel did in shallow water. Like the reed-grass the trampled weeds had prevented any footprints in the ooze. They traced the course the creature had come out for fully thirty yards, and the track pointed straight to the shore of the mainland so that it seemed as if it started at no great distance from where they used to land.

But when they had thrust the raft as far as this, not without great difficulty, for it dragged heavily on the weeds and sometimes on the ground, the marks changed and trended southwards. The water was a little deeper and the signs became less and less obvious, but still there they were, and they now pointed directly south. They lost them at the edge of the weeds, the water was still shallow, but the character of the bottom had changed from ooze to hard rock-like sand. Here they met the waves driven before the southerly wind, and coming from that part of the New Sea they had not yet explored. The wind was strong enough to make it hard work to pole the raft against it, and the spray dashed against the willow bulwark.

These waves prevented them from clearly distinguishing the bottom, though the water was very shallow, but then they thought if it had been calm the creature’s pads would have left no marks on such hard sand. It was now more than an hour after sunset, and the louring clouds rendered it more dusky than usual so soon. The creature had evidently come from the jungle southwards, but it was not possible to go there that night in the face of the rising gale. The search must be suspended till morning.

Letting the raft drive before the wind, and assisting its progress by poling, they managed to get it by sheer force through the weeds into the clear deep water by the cliff, there they paddled it round, but unable to touch bottom, the waves drifted them over to Serendib. With continual labour they poled it along the shore of Serendib, nearly to the end of the island, and then half-way across, and paddling hard with the poles contrived to get over aslant. By the time they had moored it, it was quite dusk, and they were tired with the exertion of forcing the unwieldy craft in the face of the gale.

Hastening home they found the stockade just as it had been left, and lost not a moment in lighting the fires, one on each side of the hut, the wood for which had already been collected. The gate was padlocked, the kettle put on, and they sat down to rest. A good supper and strong tea restored their strength. They sat inside the cage at the table, and needed no lantern, for the light of the two fires lit up the interior of the stockade.

As it became later the hare and the birds were fastened to the stake for a bait, more wood was heaped on the fires, and last of all the remaining poles were lashed to the uprights of the shed, forming a complete cage with horizontal bars. The matchlock was placed handy, the bow and arrows laid ready, and both axes, so that if the beast inserted his paw they could strike it.

Cards were then drawn to see who should go to sleep first, and as Bevis cut highest, he went into the hut to lie down. But after he had been there about a quarter of an hour he jumped up, quite unable to go to sleep. Mark said he did not feel the least sleepy either, so they agreed that both should sit up. Till now they had been in the outer shed or cage, but Mark thought that perhaps the creature would not come if it saw them, so they went inside the hut, and made Pan come too. The curtain was partly let down and looped aside, so that they had a view of the stockade, and the lantern lit and set in the niche.

They could hear the wind rushing over the trees outside, and every now and then a puff entered and made the lantern flicker. The fires still burned brightly, and as nothing came the time passed slowly. Bevis did not care to write up his journal, so at last they fell back on their cards and played bezique on the bed. After a time this too wearied. The tea and supper had refreshed them; but both had worked very hard that day--a long day too, as they had been up so early--and their interest began to flag. The cards were put down and they stood up to recover their wakefulness, and then went out into the cage.

The fires still flickered, though the piles of wood were burnt through, and the sticks had fallen off, half one side half the other. The wind had risen and howled along, carrying with it a few leaves which blew against the bars. It was perfectly dark, for the thick clouds hid the moon, and drops of rain were borne on the gale. They would have liked to replenish the fires, but could not get out without unlashing several of the bars, and as Mark said the creature would be more likely to come as the fires burned low. Weary and yawning they went back into the hut and sat down once more.

“One thing,” said Mark, “suppose he were to stay just outside the stockade--I mean if he comes and we shoot and hit him till he is savage, and don’t kill him, well then if he can’t get in to us, don’t you see, when it is day he’ll go outside the stockade and lie down.”

“So that we can’t go out.”

“And there he’ll stay, and wait, and wait.”

“And stay till we are starved.”

“We could not shoot him through the stockade.”

“No. Or he could go up on the cliff and watch there and never let us out. Our provisions would not last for ever.”

“The water would go first.”

“Suppose he does that, what shall we do then?” said Mark.

“I don’t know,” said Bevis languidly.

“But, now you think.”

“Bore a tunnel through the cliff to the sea,” said Bevis, yawning. “I am so sleepy, and one get out and swim round and fetch the raft.”

“Tunnel from the cave right through?”

“Straight right through.”

“We shall beat him any way,” said Mark.

“Of course we shall. Wish he’d come! O!”--yawning--“Let us go to sleep; Pan will bark.”

“Not both,” said Mark.

“Both.”

“No.”

Mark would not agree to this. In the end they cut cards again and Mark won. He stretched himself out on the bed and asked Bevis what he was going to do. Bevis took one of the great-coats (his pillow), placed it on the floor by the other wall of the hut, sat down and leaned back against the wall. In this position, with the curtain looped up, he could see straight out across to the gateway of the stockade, which was visible whenever the embers of the fires sent up a flash of light. Pan was close by curled up comfortably. He put the matchlock by his side so that he could snatch it up in a moment. “Good-night,” he said; Mark was already firm asleep.

Bevis put out his hand and stroked Pan; the spaniel recognised the touch in his sleep, and never moved. Now that it was so still, and there was no talking, Bevis could hear the sound of the wind much plainer, and once the cry of a heron rising harsh above the roar. Sometimes the interior of the stockade seemed calm, the wind blew over from the tops of the trees to the top of the cliff, and left the hollow below in perfect stillness. Suddenly, like a genie, the wind descended, and the flames leapt up on each side from the embers. In a moment the flames fell and the enclosure without was in darkness.

All was still again except the distant roar in the wood. A fly kept awake by the lantern crawled along under the roof, became entangled in a spider’s web and buzzed. The buzz seemed quite loud in the silent hut. Pan sighed in his slumber. Bevis stretched his legs and fell asleep, but a gnat alighted on his face and tickled him. He awoke, shook himself, and reproached himself for neglecting his duty. The match of the matchlock had now burned almost away; he drew the last two inches up farther in the spiral of the hammer, and thought that he would get up in a minute and put some more match in. Ten seconds later and he was asleep; this time firmly.

The last two inches of the match smouldered away, leaving the gun useless till another was lit and inserted. Down came the genie of the wind, whirling up the grey ashes of the fires and waking a feebler response. The candle in the lantern guttered and went out. As the dawn drew on above them the clouds became visible, and they were now travelling from the north-north-west, the wind having veered during the night.

A grey light came into the hut. The strong gusts of the gale ceased, and instead a light steady breeze blew. The clouds broke and the sky showed. A crow came and perched on the stockade, then flew down and picked up several fragments; it was the crow that had pecked the jack’s head. He meditated an attack on the hare and the birds strung to the stake, when Pan woke, yawned and stretched himself. Instantly the crow flew off.

Sunbeams fell aslant through the horizontal bars on to the table. Pan got up and went as far as the short cord allowed him; there was a crust under the table; he had disdained it last night at supper, when there was meat to be had, now he ate it. He gave a kind of yawning whine, as much as to say, “Do wake up;” but they were sleeping far too sound to hear him.

Mark woke first, and sat up. Bevis had slept a long time with his back to the wall, but had afterwards gently sunk down, and was now lying with his head on the bare ground of the floor. Mark laughed. Pan wagged his tail and looked at Bevis as if he understood it. Mark touched Bevis, and he instantly sat up, and felt for the gun as if it was dark.

“Why!”

“It’s morning.”

“He hasn’t been?”

“No.”

They unlashed the bars, let Pan loose, and went out into the courtyard. It was a beautiful fresh morning. There were no signs whatever of the creature having visited the place, neither outside nor in. They were much disappointed that it had not come, but supposed the wind and the roughness of the waves had deterred it from venturing across.

After breakfast, on looking at the sun-dial, they were surprised to find it ten o’clock. Then taking the matchlock, bow, and axe, as before, they started for the bed of reed-grass, thinking that the creature might possibly have come to the island without approaching the stockade. The danger had now grown familiar, and they did not care in the least; they walked straight to the place without delay or reconnoitring. The trail had not apparently been used during the night, a small branch of ash had been snapped off and blown on to it, and the waves and wind had smoothed away the disturbed appearance of the weeds.

As the wind was favourable and not rough, they at once resolved to sail to the south and examine the shore there, and if they could hit upon the trail to follow it up. But first they must have their bath at Pearl Island. They returned to the hut, put the hare and birds that had been hung on the stake inside the hut, and lashed up the bars, determined that the creature at all events should not have the game in their absence.

Then locking the gate of the stockade, they went to the raft, and bathed at Pearl Island. The mast was then stepped, the stays fastened, and the sail set. Bevis took the rudder and put it in the water over the starboard quarter, it was like a long, broad oar, the sail filled, and the heavy craft began to drive before the wind. Mark knelt in front to keep a sharp look-out for the shoals which they knew existed. As the Calypso drew so little water they passed over several without touching, where the Pinta, deep with ballast, had struck, and were soon past the farthest point they had reached in the boat.

Volume Three, Chapter XIII.

NEW FORMOSA--VOYAGE IN THE CALYPSO.

Surging along the Calypso sought the south, travelling but little faster than the waves, but smoothing a broad wake as she drove over them. Bevis held the oar-rudder under his right arm, with his hand on the handle, and felt the vibration of the million bubbles rising from the edge of the rudder to the surface. Piloting the vessel Mark sometimes directed him to steer to the right, and sometimes to the left.

There were four herons standing in a row on one sand-bank, they rose and made off at their approach; Bevis said he must have a heron’s plume. They could just see the swan a long, long way behind in the broad open water off Fir-Tree Gulf. Not long after passing the heron’s sand-bank, Mark said he was sure the water was deeper, as there were fewer weeds, but there was a long island in front of them which would soon bar their progress. It stretched from one mass of impenetrable weeds to another, and they began to think of lowering sail, when suddenly the raft stopped with a jerk, then swung round, and hung suspended.

“A snag,” said Bevis, recovering himself.

Mark had been pitched forward, and had it not been for the willow-plaited bulwark would have gone overboard. They had the sail down in a moment, fearing that the mast would snap. As they moved on the deck the raft swung now this way now that like a platform on a pivot.

“If it had been the Pinta,” said Mark, “there would have been a hole knocked in the bottom.”

The thin planking of the boat would have been crushed like an egg-shell; the thick beams at the bottom of the Calypso could not be damaged. The only difficulty was to get her off. They tried standing at one edge, and then the other, depressing it where they stood and lightening it at the other part, and at last by moving everything heavy on deck to one corner, she floated and bumped off. Looking over the bulwark they saw the snag, it was the top of a dead and submerged willow. Had they had a large sail, or had the wind been rough the mast would have snapped to a certainty; but the wind had been gradually sinking for some hours. They did not hoist sail again, being so near the long and willow-grown island, but let the raft drift to the shore.

The willows were so thick that it did not appear any use to carry the matchlock with them as the long barrel would constantly catch in the boughs. Bevis took his bow and arrows, Mark his axe, and they climbed ashore through the blue gums, compelling Pan by threats to keep close behind. The island they soon found was nothing but a narrow bank, and beyond it the water recommenced, but even could they have dragged the raft over and launched it afresh the part beyond would not have been navigable. It was plated with pond-weed, the brown leaves overlapping each other like scale-armour on the surface.

There seemed indeed more weed than water, great water-docks at the margin with leaves almost a yard long, branched water plantains with palm-like leaves and pale pink flowers; flags already a little brown, then sedges and huge tussocks; these last--small islets of tall grass-- were close together in the shallow water like the ant-hills in the Waste. No course could be forced through or twisted in and out such a mass, and beyond it were beds of reed-grass, out of which rose the reddish and scaling poles of willow. At the distant margin they could see the tops of the trees of the jungle on the mainland. Where the water was visible it had a red tinge and did not look good to drink, very different from that at New Formosa. This was stagnant.

The current, slight as it was, from Sweet River Falls, passed between New Formosa and Serendib, hence the deep channel, and rendered the water there always fresh and pure. Over the pond-weed blue dragon-flies were hovering, and among the willows tits called to each other.

“It’s South America,” said Mark. “It’s a swamp by the Amazon.”

“I suppose it is,” said Bevis. “We can’t go any farther.”

Without wading-boots it was impossible to penetrate the swamp, and even then they could not have gone among the black-jointed horse-tails, the stems of which were turning yellowish, for they would have sunk in ooze to the waist. It would have been the very haunt of the bearded-tit had not that curiously marked bird been extinct on the shores of the New Sea. They had never even heard of the bearded-tit, so completely had it died out there.

They moved a few yards along the bank, but found it was a ceaseless climb from stole to stole, and so went back to the raft, and poled close to the shore looking for traces of the creature. They poled from one end to the other, up to the banks of weeds and flags, but without seeing any sign. So far as they could tell the creature had not started from this place, but it might have swum out from any other part of the shore.

“He’s not here,” said Bevis. “We shall never hunt him out of all these sedges; I think we had better set a trap for him.”

“In the reeds at home,”--New Formosa was home now.

“In his trail.”

“Dig a pit,” said Mark. “They dig pits for lions.”

“Or set up a big beam to fall and crush him when he pushes a twig.”

“Or a spring gun; would the matchlock do?”

“Only then we want another gun when we go to find him. He might sham dead.”

“Wires are not strong enough.”

“No; the pit’s best,” said Bevis. “Yes; we’ll dig a pit and stick up a sharp spike in it, and put a trap-door at the top--just a slight frame, you know, to give way with his weight--”

“And strew it over with grass.”

“And put the hare to tempt him.”

“And shoot him in the pit!”

“Won’t he glare!”

“Roar!”

“Gnash his grinders!”

“Won’t his teeth gleam!”

“Red tongue and foam!”

“Hot breath--in such a rage!”

“Lash his tail!”

“Tear the sides of the pit!”

“Don’t let’s kill him quick. Let’s make a spear and stick him a little!”

“Come on.”

They seized the poles, all eagerness to return and dig the pit.

“Stupes we were not to do it before.”

“Awful stupes.”

“We never think of things till so long.” Such has been the case with the world since history began. How many thousands of years was it after primeval man first boiled water to the steam-engine? How long from the first rubbing of electron or amber, and a leaping up of little particles to it, to the electric tramway?

They had sailed to the swamp quickly, but it occupied more than an hour to pole back to New Formosa, so that it was the afternoon when they moored the Calypso in the usual place. They were hungry and hastened to the hut, intending to begin the pit directly after dinner, when as they came near, Pan ran on first and barked by the gate. “Ah!”

“He’s been!”

They ran, forgetting even to look at the match of the gun. There was nothing in the enclosure; but Pan sniffed outside, and gave two short “yaps” as much as to say, “I know.”

“Reeds,” said Bevis. “He’s in the reeds.”

“He heard us coming and slipped off--he’s hiding.”

“We shall have him! Now!”

“Now directly!”

“This minute!”

With incredible temerity they ran as fast as they could go to the bed of reed-grass in which they had discovered the trail. Pan barked at the edge; Bevis blew the match.

“Lu--lu--lu! go in!”

“Fetch him out.”

“Hess--ess--go in!”

“Now! Have him!”

Pan stopped at the edge and yapped in the air, wagging his tail and hesitating.

“He’s there!” said Bevis.

“As sure as sure,” said Mark. Their faces were lit up with the wild joy of the combat; as if like hounds they could scent the quarry.

“Go in,” shouted Bevis to the spaniel angrily. Pan crouched, but would not go. Mark kicked him, but he would not move.

“Hold it,” said Bevis, handing the matchlock to Mark. He seized the spaniel by his shaggy neck, lifted and hurled him by main force a few yards crash among the sedges. Pan came out in an instant.

“Go in, I tell you!” shouted Bevis, beside himself with anger; the spaniel shivered at his feet. Again Bevis lifted him, swung him, and hurled him as far this time as the reed-grass. The next instant Pan was at his feet again. Encouragement, persuasion, threats, blows, all failed; it was like trying to make him climb a tree. The dog could not force his nature. Mark threw dead sticks into the reed-grass; Bevis flung some stones.

“You hateful wretch!” Bevis stamped his foot. “Get away.” Pan ran back. “Give me the gun--I’ll go in.”

If the dog would not, he would hunt the creature from its lair himself.

“O! stop!” said Mark, catching hold of his arm, “don’t--don’t go in--you don’t know!”

“Let me go.”

“I won’t.”

“I will go.”

They struggled with each other.

“Shoot first,” said Mark, finding he could not hold him. “Shoot an arrow--two arrows. Here--here’s the bow.”

Bevis seized the bow and fitted the arrow.

“Shoot where the path is,” said Mark. “There--it’s there,”--pointing. Bevis raised the bow. “Now shoot!”

“O!” cried a voice in the reeds, “don’t shoot!”

Bevis instantly lowered the bow.

“What?” he said.

“Who’s there?” said Mark.

“It’s me--don’t shoot me!”

“Who are you?”

“Me.”

They rushed in and found Loo crouching behind the alder in the reed-grass; in her hand was a thick stick which she dropped.

“How dare you!” said Bevis.

“How did you get here?” said Mark. “Don’t you be angry!” said Loo. “But how dare you!”

“On our island!”

“Don’t you--don’t you!” repeated Loo. “You!”

“You!” One word but such intense wrath. “O!” cried Loo, beginning to sob. “You!”

“You!”

“O! Don’t! He were so hungry.” Sob, sob.

“Pooh!”

“Yah!”

“Yow--wow!” barked Pan. “He--he,” sobbed Loo. “He--he--”

“He--what?”

“He were so hungry.” Sob, sob. “Who?”

“Samson.”

“Who’s Samson?”

“My--y--lit--tle--brother.”

“Then you took our things?” said Mark. “He--he--kept on crying.”

“You had the damper--”

“And the potatoes--”

“And the bacon--”

“You didn’t--didn’t care for it,” sobbed Loo. “Did you take the rabbit-skin?” said Mark. “Yes--es.”

“But Samson didn’t eat that; did he?”

“I--I--sold it.”

“What for?”

“Ha’-penny of jumbles for Samson.” Jumbles are sweets.

“How did you get here?”

“I come.”

“How?”

“I come.”

“It’s disgusting,” said Bevis, turning to Mark; “spoiling our island.”

“Not a tiger,” said Mark. “Only a girl.”

“It’s not proper,” said Bevis in a towering rage. “Tigers are proper, girls are not proper.”

“No; that they’re not.”

“Girls are--Foo!--”

“Very--foo!” Contemptuous puffing. “It’s not the stealing.”

“No; it’s the coming--”

“Where you’re not wanted--”

“Horrible!”

“Hateful!”

“What shall we do?”

“Can’t kill her.”

“Nor torture her.”

“Nor scalp her.”

“Thing!”

“Creature!”

“Yow--wow!”

“Tie her up.”

“If we were savages we’d cook you!”

“Limb at a time.”

“What _can_ we do with her?”

“Let me stop,” said Loo pleadingly. “Let _you_ stop! You!”

“I can cook and make tea and wash things.”

“Stop a minute,” said Mark. “Perhaps she’s a native.”

“Ah!” This was more proper. “She looks brown.”

“Copper coloured.”

“Are you a savage?”

“If you says so,” said Loo penitently. “Are you very sorry?”

“You’re sure you’re a savage?”

“Will she do?”

“You’re our slave.”

“Ar-right,” [all-right], said Loo her brown eyes beginning to sparkle through her tears. “I’ll be what you wants.”

“Mind you’re a slave.”

“So I be.”

“You’ll be thrashed.”

“Don’t care. Let I bide here.”

“I suppose we must have her.”

“You’re a great nuisance.”

“Ar-right.”

“Slave! Carry that.” Mark gave her the axe. “And that.” Bevis gave her the bow. Loo took them proudly.

“You’re to keep behind--Pan’s to go before you.”

“Dogs first, slaves next.”

“Make her fetch the water.”

“Chop the wood.”

“Turn the spit.”

“Capital; we wanted a slave!”

“Just the thing.”

“Hurrah!”

“But it’s not so nice as a tiger.”

“O! No!”

“Nothing like.”

They marched out of the reed-grass, Pan and the slave behind.

“But how did you get here?” said Bevis, stopping suddenly.

“I come, I told you.”

“Can you swim?”

“No.”

“There’s no boat.”

“Did you have a catamaran?”

“What be that?”

“Why don’t you tell us how you got here?”

“I come--a-foot.”

“Waded? You couldn’t.”

“I walked drough’t,”--i.e. through it.

They would not believe her at first, but she adhered to her story, and offered to wade back to the mainland to prove that it was possible. She pointed out to them the way she had come by the shoals and sedge-grown banks; the course she had taken curved like half a horse-shoe. First it went straight a little way, then the route or ford led to the south and gradually turned back to the west, reaching the mainland within sixty or seventy yards of the place where they always disembarked from the raft. It took some time for Loo to explain how she had done it, and how she came to know of it, but it was like this.

Once now and then in dry seasons the waters receded very much, and they were further lowered by the drawing of hatches that the cattle might get water to drink low down the valley, miles away. As the waters of the New Sea receded the shallower upper, or southern end, became partly dry. Then a broad low bank of sand appeared stretching out in the shape of half a horse-shoe the extremity of which being much higher was never submerged, but formed the island of New Formosa. At such times any one could walk from the mainland out to New Formosa dryshod for weeks together.

This was how the island became stocked with squirrels and kangaroos; and it was the existence of the rabbits in the burries at the knoll that had originally led to Loo’s knowledge of the place. Her father went there once when the water was low to ferret them, and she was sent with his luncheon to and fro. That was some time since, but she had never forgotten, and often playing about the shore, had no difficulty in finding the shoal. The route or ford was, moreover, marked to any one who knew of its existence by the tops of sand-banks, and sedge-grown islets, which were in fact nothing but high parts of the same long, curved bank.

There was not more than a foot deep of water anywhere the whole distance, and often not six inches. This was in August, in winter there would be much more. Tucking up her dress she had waded through easily, feeling the bottom with a thick stick to guide her steps. The worst place was close to the island, by the reed-grass, where she sunk a little in the ooze, but it was only for a few yards.

At the hut the weapons were laid aside, and the slave put out the dinner for them. Bevis and Mark sat, one each side of the table, on their stools of solid blocks, Pan sat beside Bevis on his haunches expectant; the slave knelt at the table.

She was bare-headed. Her black hair having escaped, fell to her waist, and her neck was tawny from the harvest sunshine. The torn brown frock loosely clung about her. Her white teeth gleamed; her naked feet were sandy like Pan’s paws. Her brown eyes watched their every movement; she was intent on them. They were full of their plans of the island; she was intent on them.

She ate ravenously, more eagerly than the spaniel. Seeing this, Bevis kept cutting the preserved tongue for her, and asked if Samson was so very hungry. Loo said they were all hungry, but Samson was most hungry. He cried almost all day and all night, and woke himself up crying in the morning. Very often she left him, and went a long way down the hedge because she did not like to hear him.

“But,” objected Bevis, “my governor pays your father money, and I’m sure my mamma sends you things.”

So she did, but Loo said they never got any of them; she twisted up her mouth very peculiarly to intimate that they were intercepted by the ale-barrel. Bevis became much agitated, he said he would tell the governor, he would tell dear mamma, Samson should not cry any more. Loo should take home one of the tins of preserved tongue, and the potatoes, and all the game there was--all except the hare.

Now Bevis had always been in contact almost with these folk, but yet he had never seen; you and I live in the midst of things, but never look beneath the surface. His face became quite white; he was thoroughly upset. It was his first glance at the hard roadside of life. He said he would do all sorts of things; Loo listened pleased but dimly doubtful, she could not have explained herself, but she, nevertheless, knew that it was beyond Bevis’s power to alter these circumstances. Not that she hinted at a doubt; it was happiness enough to kneel there and listen.

Then they made her tell them how many times she had been to the island, and all about it, and as she proceeded recognised one by one, little trifles that had previously had no meaning till now they were connected and formed a continuous strand. In her rude language it occupied a long time, and was got at by cross-questioning from one and the other. Put into order it was like this.

Volume Three, Chapter XIV.

NEW FORMOSA--THE CAPTIVE.

They arrived on Wednesday; Wednesday night Pan stayed in the hut with them, and nothing happened. Thursday night, Pan swam off to the mainland, and while he was away Loo made her first visit to the island, coming right to the hut door or curtain. Till she reached the permanent plank table under the awning and saw the remnants of the supper carelessly left on it, she had had no thought of taking anything.

The desire to share, if ever so secretly, in what they were doing alone led her there. So intense was that desire that it overcame her fear of offending them; she must at least see what they were doing. From the sedges she had watched them go to the island in the Pinta so many times that she was certain that was the place where they were. In wading off to the island by moonlight she caught a glimpse of the sinking fire inside the stockade, the glow thrown up on the cliff, and so easily found her way to the hut. Had Pan been there he would have barked, but he was away; so that she came under the awning and saw all their works-- the stockade, the hut, and everything, increasing her eagerness.

After she had examined the place and wondered how they could build it, she saw the remnants of the supper on the table, and remembering Samson, took them for him. The rabbit’s skin was hung on the fence, and she took it also, knowing that it would fetch a trifle; in winter it would have been worth more. She thought that these things were nothing to them, that they did not care about them, and threw them aside like refuse.

The second time she came was on Saturday morning, while they were exploring Serendib. When they were on Serendib she could cross to New Formosa in broad daylight unseen, because New Formosa lay between, and the woods on it concealed any one approaching from the western side. Her mother and elder sisters were reaping in the cornfields beyond the Waste, and she was supposed to be minding the younger children, instead of which she was in the sedges watching New Formosa, and directly she saw Bevis and Mark pole the raft across to Serendib she waded over.

She visited the hut, took a few potatoes from the store in the cave, and spent some time wondering at everything they had there. As she was leaving they landed from the raft, and Pan sniffing her in the wood ran barking after her. He knew her very well and made no attempt to bite, still he barked as if it was his duty to tell them some one was on the island. Thinking they would run to see what it was, she climbed up into the ivy-grown oak, and they actually came underneath and looked up and did not see her.

They soon went away fancying it must be a squirrel, but Pan stopped till she descended, and then made friends and followed her to the reed-grass, whence so soon as she thought it safe she waded across to the mainland. Busy at the hut they had no idea that anything of the kind was going on, for they could not see the water from the stockade. On Sunday morning she came again, for the third time, crossing over while they were at Bamboo Island, and after satiating her curiosity and indulging in the pleasure of handling their weapons and the things in the hut, she took the cold half-cooked bacon from the shelf, and the two slices that had been thrown to Pan and which he had left uneaten.

When they returned Pan knew she had been; he barked and first ran to the ivy-grown oak, but finding she was not there he went on and discovered her in the reed-grass. He was satisfied with having discovered her, and only licked her hand. So soon as everything was quiet she slipped across to the mainland, but in the afternoon, being so much interested and eager to see what they were doing, she tried to come over again, when Mark saw her head in the sedges. Loo crouched and kept still so long they concluded there was no one there.

It was the same afternoon that they looked at the oak for marks of claws, but her naked feet had left no trace. She would very probably have attempted it again on Monday night, but that evening they came with the letter and list of provisions, and having seen them and spoken to them, and having something to do for them, her restless eagerness was temporarily allayed. That night was the first Pan was tied up, but nothing disturbed him.

But Tuesday night, after they had been for the flag-basket, the inclination to follow them became too strong, and towards the middle of the night, when, as she supposed, Pan was on shore (for she had seen him swim off other nights), she approached the hut. To her surprise Pan, who was tied up, began to bark. Hastening away, in her hurry she crossed the spot where Pan hid his treasures and picked up the duck’s drumstick, but finding it was so polished as to be useless dropped it among the reed-grass.

Wednesday night she ventured once more, but found the gate in the stockade locked; she tried to look over, when Pan set up his bark. She ran back a few yards to the bramble bushes and crouched there, trusting in the thick mist to hide her, as in fact it did. In half a minute, Mark having cut the cord, Pan rushed out in fury, as if he would fly at her throat, but coming near and seeing who it was, he dropped his howl of rage, and during the silence they supposed he was engaged in a deadly struggle.

Whether she really feared that he would spring at her, he came with such a bounce, or whether she thought Bevis and Mark would follow him and find her, she hit at Pan with the thick stick she carried. Now Pan was but just touched, for he swerved, but the big stick and the thump it made on the ground frightened him, and he yelped as if with pain and ran back. As he ran she threw a stone after him, the stone hit the fence and shook it, and knocked off the piece of bark from the willow which they afterwards supposed to have been torn by the claw of the tiger.

Hearing them talking and dreading every moment that they would come out, she remained crouched in the brambles for a long time, and at last crept away, but stayed in the reed-grass till the sun shone, and then crossed to the mainland. Thursday she did not come, nor Thursday night, thinking it best to wait awhile and let a day and night elapse. But on Friday morning, having seen them sail to the south in the Calypso, while they were exploring the swamp, she waded over, and once more looked at the wonderful hut and the curious cage they had constructed about the open shed.

She was so lost in admiring these things and trying to imagine what it could be for, that they had returned very near the island before she started to go. She got as far as the reed-grass and saw them come up poling the raft.

On the raft while facing the island they could not have helped seeing her, so she waited, intending to cross when they had entered the stockade and were busy there. But Pan recognised that she had been to the stockade; they ran at once to the reed-grass, as they now knew of the trail there, and discovered her. The reason Pan would not enter the reeds, even when hurled among them, was his fear of the thick stick.

“Stupes we were!” said Bevis.

“Most awful stupes!”

“Not half Indians!”

“Not a quarter!”

The whole thing was now so clear to them they could not understand why they had not rightly read the indications or “sign” that at last appeared so self-evident. But they were not the first who have wondered afterwards that they had not been wise _before_ the event. It is so easy to read when the type is set up and the sentences printed in proper sequence; so difficult to decipher defaced inscriptions in an unknown language. When the path is made any one can walk along it and express disdainful surprise that there should ever have been any difficulty.

“But it’s not proper,” said Bevis. “I wish it had been a tiger.”

“It would have been so capital. But _we’ve_ got a slave.”

“Where’s she to sleep to-night?”

“Anywhere in the wood.”

“Slave, you’re to cook the hare for supper.”

“And mind you don’t make a noise when we’re out hunting and frighten the kangaroos.”

Loo said she would be as quiet as a mouse.

“We shall want some tea presently. I say!” said Mark, “we’ve forgotten Charlie!”

He ran up on the cliff, but it was too late; Charlie had been and waved his cap three times, in token that all was not quite right at home. Mark looked at the sun-dial; it was nearly five. They had not had dinner till later than usual, and then Loo’s explanation and cross-examination had filled up the time. Still as Loo told them she was certain every one was quite well at home, they did not trouble about having missed Charlie. Mark wished to go shooting again round Serendib, and they started, leaving the slave in charge of the hut to cook their supper.

Mark had the matchlock, and Bevis poled the raft gently round Serendib, but the water-fowl seemed to have become more cautious, as they did not see any. Bevis poled along till they came to a little inlet, where they stopped, with blue gum branches concealing them on either hand. Mark knelt where he could see both ways along the shore; Bevis sat back under the willows with Pan beside him.

They were so quiet that presently a black-headed reed-bunting came and looked down at them from a willow bough. Moths fluttered among the tops of the branches, the wind was so light that they flew whither they listed, instead of being borne out over the water. The brown tips of a few tall reeds moved slightly as the air came softly; they did not bow nor bend; they did but just sway, yielding assent.