As we stood
watching them, with, on my part, at least, unexpected qualms of
pity and a cold interior sensation very unlike triumph, they
discovered us. Then for the first time, I suppose, they understood
the nature of their disaster. We could not hear their cries, but
we saw arms stretched out to us, fists frantically shaken, hands
lifted in prayer. We saw Mr. Tubbs flop down upon his unaccustomed
knees--it was all rather horrible.
I drew back, shivering. "It won't be for long, of course," I said
uncertainly, "just till the steamer comes--and we'll give them lots
to eat--but I suppose they think--they will soon be just a lot more
skeletons--" And here I was threatened with a moist anticlimax to
my late Amazonian mood.
Why should the frequent and natural phenomena of tears produce such
panic in the male breast? At a mere April dewiness about my lashes
these two strong men quaked.
"Don't--don't cry!" implored Cuthbert earnestly.
"It's been too much for her!" exclaimed the once dour Scot in tones
of anguish. "Hurry, lad--we must find her some water--"
"Nonsense," I interposed, winking rapidly. "Just think of some way
to calm those creatures, so that I shan't see them in my dreams,
begging and beseeching--" For I had not forgotten the immensity of
my debt to Tony.
So a note was written on a leaf torn from a pocketbook and thrown
over the cliff weighted with a stone.
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