One Maid's Mischief

Grey knelt down at her side as Hilton drew back, wrinkling his brow, half with vexation, half with contempt, as he looked now at the Resident.

Mr Harley returned the glance, and they both stood looking on, wanting to leave but hardly liking to stir, as poor little Mrs Bolter sobbed forth her trouble, with her head buried now in Grey Stuart’s breast.

“We cannot wait longer,” said the Resident at last; “we must go and risk it. If we have any casualties, we must trust to our own surgical knowledge, and do the best we can.”

“Yes,” said Hilton; “every minute is precious; but I am afraid that we are going to a war of words, and not to a war of weapons. Let us go. Perhaps Mrs Bolter will beg of the doctor to come after us in one of the small boats if we miss him on our way up.”

“Stop a minute,” said Mrs Bolter, recovering herself by an effort, and standing up, red of eye and cheek. “He will not come back here while you are gone, and I will hesitate no longer. I shall go with you!”

“Go with us?” cried the Resident and Hilton in a breath.

“Yes,” said the little woman, decidedly. “I shall go!”

“But it is impossible!” cried the Resident. “There may be fighting!”

“Then you would want help. I do know a little surgery, and more nursing; so I could be of great service.”

“But, my dear Mrs Bolter!” cried Hilton.

“Now, it is of no use for you to talk!” cried the little lady. “I feel it is a duty that I am called upon to fulfil. There is my brother somewhere up in those dreadful jungles, as thoughtless and as helpless as a child. He is all strength in goodness and spiritual matters; but as to taking care of himself, he is like a baby. I know he is lost!”

“It is very good of you,” said the Resident, warmly; “but, my dear Mrs Bolter, pray trust to us to find all our missing people. You know what Doctor Bolter is.”

“Yes – no – yes – no!” she cried, passionately. “I don’t quite know him yet; but I know my duty as his – his – wife. I shall go: for if he has, through his weakness, been led into any entanglement with that wretched, wicked black creature, I know and I feel, that at any suffering to myself, I ought to go and fetch him back – and I will!”

As she said this in a fierce determined way, the two officers gazed again in each other’s faces, amused, vexed, troubled, puzzled; for what, they silently asked each other, were they to do?

“Mrs Bolter – dear Mrs Bolter!” said Grey Stuart, solving the problem for them, as, in a tender, womanly way, she passed her arm round the determined little lady, and drew her to her breast, “you are angry and upset by your trouble; but you will – no – you cannot do this thing! You love dear Doctor Bolter too well to misjudge him. Pray, pray think of the pain it would give him, did he know that you had thought and spoken like this!”

“And – and as I never did before – before – he came and – and disturbed my quiet life at home!” cried the little woman. “You – you are right, my darling! I – I couldn’t do such a thing; and I wouldn’t have said it only – only – I am half mad! Don’t – don’t recollect all this, Harley – Captain Hilton! It is of course impossible! Go at once – and – bring him back to me, for this suspense is more than I can bear!”

“We’ll do our best,” said the Resident. “There, cheer up. We’ll forget all this, and so will you when our dear old friend is back. Tell him we wanted his help and counsel badly, but we could not wait. Tell him, too, that I share his suspicions.”

“Suspicions?” cried little Mrs Bolter, firing up once more.

“Yes, on the subject we discussed,” said the Resident, gravely, as he shook hands. “There, good-bye. Wish us success.”

“Yes, wish us success,” said Hilton, taking her hand. “I pledge you my word that you are right in what you now think about the doctor, who is as true a little gentleman as ever breathed!”

Poor little Mrs Bolter uttered a sob, and raised Hilton’s hand to her lips and kissed it for the words he had uttered, for she dared not trust herself to speak!

“Good-bye,” said the Resident again. “All this is as good as dead, and quite forgotten!”

“Yes, yes,” said little Mrs Bolter. “You will keep a sharp look-out for dear Arthur. I feel sure he is wandering about somewhere, half-starved, but loaded with specimens that he has found.”

“Good-bye, Miss Stuart,” said Hilton, in a low, grave voice, for he felt deeply moved, and his heart had seemed to swell within his breast as he looked on while she had seemed to lead and control her excited, passion-swayed friend. “Wish me success, for I shall try, while I have life, to restore to you your unfortunate friend.”

“Yes,” she said, softly; and the sad tears stood in her eyes. “I wish you success.”

“Helen Perowne will need all your love and sympathy when we bring her back.”

“As I pray Heaven you will,” she said, quietly. “You will have our constant prayers for your safety. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

Their hands touched for a moment, and a thrill of misery flew to each heart.

“How he must love her!” thought Grey. “Oh! Helen, how can you trifle with him as you do?”

“I remember,” thought Hilton, as he turned away, feeling as wretched as he had ever felt in his life, “that I used to read a little fable, when I was a child, about a dog and his shadow. I’ve been running after the shadow all this time, and I have lost the substance. Unlucky dog!”

“What are you thinking about, Hilton?” said the Resident, as they stepped out of the cool, shady veranda into the blazing sunshine, and began walking towards the landing-place to embark for the Residency island.

“Thinking?” said Hilton. “Oh! I don’t know; only that it would not be of much consequence if a fellow got a Malay spear through his lungs.”

Volume Three – Chapter Nineteen.

Labour in Vain

The fugitives had not been lying in their shady place of concealment many minutes before the loud buzz of voices and shouting ceased. Then came the whishing and brushing noise of twigs and bushes, and in the midst of the silence that followed they made out the beating of oars once more, and soon after the prahu came into sight, gliding swiftly down the stream.

As it came nearer, those in the sampan hardly dared to breathe, but crouched there, waiting patiently till the great vessel had passed.

So plainly could everything be seen in the broad sunlight that, as the crew were evidently keeping a sharp look-out on both sides, it seemed impossible, in spite of the hanging boughs, for the fugitives to remain unseen.

Nearer came the prahu, the steersman sending it well in towards them; a dozen eyes were fixed upon the leafy screen, and feeling that the time for desperate action had come, the doctor took up his gun and held it ready for use, if, after a parley, the occupants of the prahu sought to rob him of what he reasonably called his prize.

They were anxious moments, and more than once, when the prahu was close abreast, the doctor made sure, from the expression of the men’s faces, that they could see through the screen.

But no; the water was ablaze, in its ripple, as it were, with silver fire; the leaves glistened in the sun’s rays, and beyond them all seemed to be in impenetrable darkness, the result being that the prahu passed on its way, going faster and faster, till, as the doctor parted the leaves to gaze out, the stern of the long row-boat disappeared round a bend some five hundred yards away, and the question now was, what was the best thing to do?

Helen was nearly fainting with heat and excitement; and gently lifting her, so that her head was by the side, the doctor spent the next few minutes in bathing her face with the clear cold water that glided swiftly in amongst the overhanging boughs.

“Well, Ismael, what next?” said the doctor. “Do you think we might venture to follow them slowly down?”

“No, master!” was the emphatic reply. “The prahu will not go far without finding that we are not in front; then she will leave a small boat with men to see that we do not pass, while the prahu comes back to search the river sides. Sampans and small prahus always hide under the branches like this.”

“Then why propose such a blind trick?” cried the doctor.

“If the master could have shown a better way his servants would have been content,” said the Malay, humbly.

“But I could not propose a better way!” cried the doctor, angrily. “We could not escape from a swift boat like that. Well, what shall we do?”

“I should land, master, and try to escape through the jungle.”

“Impossible!” cried the doctor, glancing at Helen’s swollen feet. “She could not walk a mile, and we could not carry her.”

“It would not be wise to try and go up-stream, master,” said the Malay.