by G. A. Henty
Chapter 4: A Ruined Temple.
After the officer left him, Stanley sat thinking for a long time.He himself inclined strongly towards the river; but he saw that, atpresent, the difficulties would be very great. The war boats werepassing up and down, and bodies of troops were being carried downin large craft. In every village the men, he knew, were assemblingand drilling. Even in Ava he could see the difference in thepopulation, the proportion of men to women having markedlydecreased since his arrival.
As to the journey by land, it appeared to him impossible. He was,too, altogether without money and, whether by water or land, itwould be necessary to go into the villages to buy provisions.Indeed, money would have been almost useless, for there was nocoined money in Burma; payments being made in lead, for smallamounts, or in silver for large ones--the quantity necessary beingcut off from small sticks or bars, or paid in filings.
It seemed to him that the best thing would be to take to theforest, for a time; and endeavour to subsist upon wild fruits or,if these were not to be found there, to go out into the fields andorchards at night, and so manage to hold on for a few weeks. Hisfriend told him that, in the forests along the principal lines ofroute to the capital, were many bad characters--persons who hadcommitted crime and fled from justice. Some were cultivators who,having been unable to pay their taxes, had deserted their land andtaken to the woods. All committed depredations, and traders cominginto the town from the Shan states, or from the country whererubies and emeralds were found, always travelled in caravans formutual protection. At times levies were called out, and many ofthese marauders were killed.
Stanley, then, had hit upon nothing definite when the officerreturned in the afternoon and, in reply to the latter's question,he acknowledged at once that the only thing he could see was totake to the forest, until the active search for him had ceased.
"You would find it difficult to maintain yourself. I have thoughtof a better way than that. I am acquainted with a Phongee, wholives in a temple in a lonely spot, four miles away. He is a goodman, though somewhat strange in his habits; and I feel sure that,on my recommendation, he would take you in. There would be littlechance of your being discovered there. You could not go dressed asyou are, but must disguise yourself as a peasant; though it mightbe well to retain your present attire, which may be useful to you,afterwards. I fear that you will fare badly with him, in the way offood; there will be enough to eat, but it will be of the simplest."
"So that there is enough to keep life together, it matters littlewhat it is."
"Then that is settled.
"Now, about making your escape from here. Your door is closelybarred, at night; and there is no window save those four littleholes, high up in the wall, which scarce a bird could get through."
"I could cut through the thatch above," Stanley said, "if I had butsomething that I could stand upon to do so. There are some bambooslying just at the bottom of the steps. With these and some cord Imight make a sort of ladder, and should then be able to get at thethatch."
"I will bring you some cord, tomorrow, for that and to let yourselfdown to the ground. Then I will arrange where to meet you, and willguide you out of the town and take you to the priest. I will bringa disguise for you, and some stain for your body and arms for, as apeasant, you would be naked to the waist. I can think of nothingbetter."
"I thank you most heartily," Stanley said, "and trust that you mayget into no trouble for the kindness that you have shown me."
"There is no fear of that, my friend. No one will know that I havebeen away from the town. I am greatly afraid that this will be allthat I shall be able to do for you; for I am told that I am to godown the river with the next batch of troops, which will start inthree days. I have only been informed of it since I saw you thismorning. Had it not been for you I should have been glad; for it isin war time, only, that one can obtain honour and promotion."
"I am sorry that you are going, sir. I shall miss your kindness,sorely; but I can understand your desire to go to the front. It isthe same with us; when there is a war, every officer and soldierhopes that his regiment will be sent there. However, I shall seeyou again.
"Has Bandoola's army moved yet?"
"No; nor do I think that it will do so. It is a long march down toRangoon from Ramoo; and I believe that he will remain where he is,until he sees how matters go at Rangoon. As soon as your people aredriven out, he will be joined by a great army, and will march toDacca. There our troops from the north will join him; and then hewill go to India, we think."
"I fancy," Stanley said with a smile, "if he waits until we areturned out from Rangoon, his stay at Ramoo will be a long one."
The next day the officer brought several yards of strong cloth,such as was worn by the peasants; a piece of muslin to make thecircular band that was worn by the lower class, instead of acomplete turban; and a lot of horse hair to be worn on the top ofthe head.
"Now," he said, "strip to the waist, and I will dye your body. Ihave dyes of two colours here; one for the skin, and the other todraw lines on the face, so as to make you look older; and with thisI can also imitate tattoo marks on your chest and shoulders. Hereis a long knife, such as everyone wears, and here is the cord.
"As soon as it is getting dark you must carry up two of the bamboopoles, taking care that no one observes you do so. There is seldomanyone in the courtyard. I have had the knife sharpened, and itwill cut through the thatch, easily enough. When you get away, walkstraight to the market that lies nearest to us. I will be at itsentrance. It will take you, I suppose, two hours to make yourladder and get out. You cannot begin until the guard closes yourdoor. You tell me he never comes in."
"No, he brings the last meal an hour before sunset. I generally siton the top of the steps, till he comes up to lock the door, whichis about nine o'clock; and I do not see him again until he unbarsthe door in the morning. I should not think that it will take aslong as two hours to make the ladder, and cut the thatch; at anyrate, by eleven I ought to join you.
"I suppose the gates are open."
"Oh, yes! They are never closed, though of course they would be, ifan enemy were near. There is no guard anywhere."
After staining Stanley's skin, the officer waited a quarter of anhour for it to dry thoroughly; and then proceeded to draw lines onhis face, across the forehead, and from the corners of his eyes;and then spent nearly an hour in executing rough tattoo marks onhis body and arms.
"This dye is very good, and will last for weeks before it begins tofade. I will bring with me another bottle, tonight, so that you canat least re-dye your skin.
"Here is some wax. You must turn your hair up from the neck, andplaster it in its place with it. The turban will prevent anyoneseeing how short the hair is. Here is a little bottle of black dye,with which you had better colour it, before fixing it with thewax."
Stanley's hair had not been cut for some time before he had beencaptured by the Burmese and, in the two months that had sinceelapsed, it had grown very long; and could therefore be turned upas the officer suggested. Putting on his usual garments, he sat athis place, at the door of the cell, until the guard brought up hisevening meal. Having eaten this, he dyed his hair and, half an hourlater, turned it up, plastering it with wax, and tied a bit offibre round where the turban would come.
By this time it was getting dusk. He sat at the door at the top ofthe steps, until he saw that the courtyard was deserted; the guardat the gate having gone outside, to enjoy the coolness of the air.Then he ran down the steps, took two bamboo poles about ten feet inlength, and two short pieces of the same wood no thicker than hisfinger and, hurrying up the steps with them, laid them down againstthe side of the room. Then he went to the steps again, and satthere until he saw the guard coming across to fasten his door; whenhe went in and, as soon as he heard the bars put up, began hispreparations.
First he lashed the short pieces across the ends of the twobamboos, so as to keep them a foot apart; then he put ratlinesacross, and soon had the ladder
completed. He made up his clothesinto a bundle, wrapped the rough cloth round his waist, adjustedthe knot of horse hair on the top of his head, and fastened itthere with wax. He wound the turban round below, and his disguisewas complete.
Fixing the ladder against the wall he climbed it, and it was notlong before he cut a hole through the thatch of sufficient size topass out. The work had taken him longer than he had expected, forit had to be done in absolute darkness; however, he was sure thathe was well within his time. Fastening the end of the rope to oneof the bamboo rafters, he descended the ladder and picked up hisbundle; then climbed up again, got halfway out of the hole, andlistened intently. Everything was quiet in the street and, inanother minute, he stood on the ground.
When he turned into the principal street, there were still manypeople about. Sounds of music and singing came from the windows,for the Burmese are very fond of music, and often pass the wholenight in playing and singing. There was no risk whatever ofdetection now, and he stepped briskly along until he came to theopen space, with its rows of little thatched huts. Here he pausedfor a minute, and the officer stepped out from behind a house andjoined him.
"I was not sure at first that it was you," he said. "Your disguiseis excellent. You had better follow me, now, until we get beyondthe busy streets."
Keeping some twenty yards behind his guide, Stanley went on until,after nearly half an hour's walking, they passed through a gate inthe city walls. He now closed up to the officer and, after anotherhalf-hour's walk across a cultivated country, they entered aforest. The ground now rose steadily and, after keeping on for twomiles, they emerged from the trees at the top of a hill. The spacehad been cleared of timber, but it was nearly covered with bushesand young trees. In the centre were the ruins of a temple, that hadevidently existed long before the Burmese dynasty occupied thecountry, and had been erected by some older race. It was roofless;the walls had, in places, fallen; and the ruins were covered withvegetation.
The Burman ascended some broken steps, entered the temple, andcrossed to one of the opposite corners. A dim light was burning ina small apartment, which had been roofed with thatch. A man waslying, dressed, on a heap of leaves at one side. He started up asthe officer entered.
"Who is it who comes here at this hour?" he asked.
"Thekyn," the officer answered.
"I am glad to see you," the Phongee said, "whatever may bring youhere. You have not fallen into trouble, I hope?"
"In no way, good priest. I am starting, in two days, down the riverto fight the barbarians; but before I go, I want you to do me afavour."
The Phongee smiled.
"Beyond naming you in my prayers, Thekyn, there is but little thata hermit can do for any man."
"Not so, in this case," the officer said. "I have one here with mewho needs rest, and concealment. I would rather that you did notask who he is. He has done no crime, and yet he is in danger; andfor a month, maybe, he needs a shelter. Will you give it him, formy sake?"
"Assuredly I will," the priest said. "Your father was one of mydearest friends, in the days when I dwelt in the city. I wouldgladly do all in my power for his son, and this is but a smallthing that you ask. Let him enter."
Stanley went in. The priest took down the little lamp, from a shelfon which it stood, and held it near the lad's face. Then he turned,with a smile, to Thekyn:
"The painting is but clumsily done," he said, "though maybe itwould pass without close examination. He is a stranger, and comesof a race unknown to me but, as you said, it matters not to me whohe is; suffice that he is a friend of yours. He is welcome to ashare of my shelter, and my food; though the shelter is rough, andthe food somewhat scanty. Of late few, indeed, have sought me for,as I hear, most of the men have gone down to the war."
"I have brought you some food," the officer said; for Stanley hadobserved that he also carried a bundle, a larger one than his own."Here is a supply of rice, that will last for some time; and this,with your offerings, will suffice to keep things going. My friendis not, like you, bound by his religion not to take life; and Iknow that snakes are very plentiful round here."
Snakes had formed a frequent article of his diet, since he had beencaptured; and Stanley had lost the repugnance to them that he atfirst felt, so the prospect of their forming the staple of his foodwas not disagreeable to him. It would also afford him someemployment to search for and kill them.
"I shall be well content," he said, "with anything that I can get,and trust that I shall be no burden upon you."
"You will assuredly be none," the priest replied. "Here must be atleast thirty pounds of rice which, alone, would keep two men alivefor a month. As regards the snakes, though I may not kill them, Imay eat them when killed; and indeed, there are few things better.In truth, I should not be sorry to have some of the creatures outof the way; for they swarm round here so thickly that I have to paygreat heed, when I walk, lest I step upon them."
"Have you been troubled with robbers, of late, father?" Thekynasked.
"They trouble me not at all," the priest said. "Men come,sometimes. They may be robbers, or they may not. I ask noquestions. They sometimes bring fruit and other offerings, and Iknow that I need not fear them. I have nought to lose, save mylife; and he would be indeed an evil man who would dare to lift hisfinger against a priest--one who harms not anyone, and is ready toshare what food he has with any man who comes to him hungry."
"Well, father, I will say goodbye. I must be back to the citybefore men are about, as I would not that my absence should bediscovered."
"Peace be with you, my son. May you come back safe from the wars.My prayers will be said for you, night and morning.
"Be in no uneasiness as to your friend. If any should ask me aboutmy companion, I shall reply that he is one who has undertaken torid me of some of the snakes, who dispute the possession of thisplace with me."
Thekyn motioned to Stanley to come outside the hut with him and,when he did so, handed to him a small but heavy bag.
"This is lead," he said. "You will need it, when you start on yourjourney down the country. There are eight pounds of it and, fromwhat you have seen in the market, you will know how much food canbe got for a small amount of lead. I would that I could do more foryou, and assist your flight."
"You have done much indeed, very much and, should I regain myfriends, I will endeavour to do as much by one of your countrymen,for your sake. I hope that, when this war is over, I may meet youagain."
"I hope so," the Burman said warmly. "I cannot but think that youwill succeed in getting away."
"My son," the old priest said, when Stanley returned to his cell,"I am going to my prayers. I always rise at this hour, and praytill morning; therefore you may as well lay yourself down on theseleaves. There is another cell, like this, in the opposite corner ofthe temple. In the morning you can cut boughs, and roof it likethis; and make your bed there. There is no room for another, here;and it will doubtless be more pleasant for you to have a place toyourself, where you can go and come as you like; for in the daywomen come up to consult me, and ask for my prayers--but mind howyou enter it for the first time as, like as not, there will besnakes sheltering there."
Stanley lay awake for a time, listening to the monotonous voice ofthe priest as he repeated his prayers; but his senses soonwandered, and he slept soundly till daybreak.
His first step was to cut a stout stick, and he then proceeded tothe other cell, which was partially blocked up with stone from thefallen roof. It took him two hours to carry this stuff out, and hekilled no less than nine snakes that he disturbed in his work. Theprospect of sleeping in a place so frequented was not a pleasantone, especially as the cell had no door to it; and he resolved atonce to erect some sort of bed place, where he might be beyondtheir reach. For this purpose he cut two poles, each three or fourinches longer than the cell. One end of each he sharpened, anddrove in between the interstices of the stone, at a distance ofsome two feet and a half apart and four feet from the ground. Theother ends he
hammered with a heavy stone against the oppositewall, until they would go down no farther. Then he split up somemore wood and lashed strips, almost touching each other, underneaththe two poles, by the aid of some strong creepers. Then he filledup the bed place, between the poles, with dry leaves.
One end of the bed was some inches higher than the other. This wasimmaterial, and he felt satisfied that even the craftiest snakecould not reach him.
As to the roof, he was by no means particular about it. In thispart of Burma the rainfall is very small, the inundations being theeffect of heavy rains in the distant hill country which, as theycome down, raise the level of the rivers, in some cases, as much aseighteen feet, and overflow the low-lying country.
Before beginning to construct the bed, he had carried the snakesinto the Phongee; after first cutting off their heads which, as heknew, the Burmans never touch.
"This is good, indeed, my son," the priest said. "Here we have ourbreakfast and dinner. I will boil some rice, and fry four of themfor breakfast."
The bed was but half completed, when he heard the priest sound abell. It was doubtless used as a call to prayer. However, Stanleyrightly conjectured that, in this case, it was a summons to a meal;and was soon seated on the ground by the side of the priest. Littlewas said at breakfast, which Stanley enjoyed heartily.
"So my friend Thekyn is starting for the wars. What think you ofit, my son? Shall we easily overpower these barbarians? We havenever met them in war before and, doubtless, their methods offighting are different from ours."
"Quite different. Their men are trained as soldiers. They act asone man, while the Burmese fight each for himself. Then they havecannon with them, which they can drag about quickly, and use withgreat effect. Although they are few, in comparison with the armiesgoing down to attack them, the latter will find it very difficultwork to turn them out of Rangoon."
"Do you think that they will beat us, then?"
"That I cannot say, but I should not be surprised if it were toprove so."
"The Burmese have never been beaten yet," the priest said. "Theyhave been victorious over all their enemies."
"The Burmese are very brave," Stanley agreed, "but, hitherto, theyhave only fought against people less warlike than themselves. Nowthey have to deal with a nation that has made war a study, andwhich always keeps up a large army of men who are trained to fight,and who spend all their time in military exercises. It is not thatthey are stronger than the Burmese, for the Burmese are very strongmen; but only that men who are trained to act together must,necessarily, possess a great advantage over those who have had nosuch training--who simply take up arms for the occasion and, whenthe trouble is over, return to their homes and lay them by, untilcalled out to fight again.
"Besides, their weapons are better than yours; and they have manycannon which, by practice, they can load and fire very quickly; andeach of which, when the armies are near each other, can fire fiftyor sixty bullets at once."
"I have heard a strange story that the barbarians have a shipwithout sails, with a great chimney that pours out quantities ofblack smoke, and a wheel on each side and, as the wheels moveround, the vessel can go straight up the river against the tide,even if the wind is blowing strongly down."
"It is true, father, there are many such ships; but only two orthree that have made the long voyage across stormy seas to India."
"It is wonderful how these men can force fire to be their servant,and how it can make the wheels of the ship to move round."
"That I cannot tell you, father. I have never seen one of thesevessels, though I have heard of them."
The priest said no more, but evidently fell into a profoundmeditation; and Stanley, getting quietly up, returned to his work.The priest came in, just as he had completed his bed.
"That is well," he said, looking at it approvingly. "I myself,although I know that, until my time has come, no creature can harmme, cannot resist a shudder when I hear one rustling amid theleaves of my bed; for they come in, although some of my friendshave had a door placed to exclude their entry at night. I wanderbut little from my cell, and always close the door after me; butthey enter, sometimes, when I am meditating, and forgetful ofearthly matters, and the first I know of their presence is therustling of the leaves in the bed, at night. Were I as strong infaith as I should be, I would heed it not. I tell myself so; but myfear is stronger than my will, and I am forced to rise, turn up theleaves with a stick until I find them, and then I open the door andeject them, with as much gentleness as may be."
"I should get no sleep at all," Stanley said. "I don't think thateven a door would make me feel any safer, for I might forget toshut it, sometimes. Tomorrow, father, I will wage war with them,and see if I cannot decrease their numbers considerably."
Stanley's first task was to clear the bushes away from the court ofthe temple; and this, after several days' hard work, he carriedout; although he soon saw that by so doing he would not diminishthe number of the snakes, for the greater portion of the area wascovered with blocks of fallen stone, among which the reptiles foundan impenetrable shelter. The clearance effected, however, was sofar useful that, while the creatures were before altogether hiddenfrom sight by the bushes, they could now be killed when they cameout to bask in the sun on the uncovered stones; and he could, everyday, destroy a dozen or more without the slightest difficulty.
Ten days after he had finished the work, he heard the sound ofmen's voices and, peeping out, saw a Burmese officer with a partyof eight armed men going to the Phongee's cell. It was possiblethat they might have come on other business, but it was moreprobable they had come in search of him. Some of the women who hadcome up to the hermit had seen him at work; and might havementioned, on their return, that the priest had a man at workclearing away the bushes. The matter might have come to the ears ofsome officer anxious to distinguish himself, and the idea that thiswas the prisoner for whom a search was being made occurred to him.
Stanley shrank back into his cell, took up the bundle of clothesthat served as his pillow, got on to the bed and, standing on it,was able to get his fingers on to the top of the wall. He hoistedhimself up, made his way through the boughs of the roof, anddropped on to the ground outside. Then he went round by the back ofthe temple, until he stood outside the priest's cell, and couldhear the voices within without difficulty.
"Then you know nothing whatever of this man?"
"Nothing whatever," he replied. "As I have told you, he came to meand asked for shelter. I gave him such poor assistance as I could,as I should give it to anyone who asked me. He has been no burdenupon me, for he has killed enough snakes for my food and his own."
"You know not of what part he is a native?"
"Not at all; I asked him no questions. It was no business of mine."
"Could you form any idea from his speech?"
"His speech was ours. It seemed to me that it was that of a nativeof the lower provinces."
"Where is he now?"
"I know not."
"You say that, at present, he is away."
"Not seeing him in front, I thought he had gone out; for he comesand goes as he pleases. He is not a hired servant, but a guest. Hecut down the bushes here, in order that he might more easily killthe snakes; for which, indeed, I am thankful to him, not only forthe food that they afford, but because they were in such abundance,and so fearless, that they often came in here, knowing that theyhad naught to fear from me."
"Then you think that he will return soon?"
"As he told me not of his intention of going out at all, I cannotsay. He is away, sometimes, for hours in the forest."
"Well, in any case, we shall watch here until his return. It may bethat he is some idle fellow, who prefers killing snakes to honestwork; but it may also be that he is the escaped prisoner of whom weare in search."
"I hear little of what passes in the town," the priest said,quietly. "News would disturb my meditations, and I never questionthose who come here to ask for my prayers. I have heard
of theescape of no prisoner."
"It was a young English officer who got away. There has been agreat stir about it. Every house in the town has been searched, andevery guard boat on the river has been warned to allow no boat topass, without assuring themselves that he is not on board."
"This was a brown man, like ourselves, clad only in a petticoat ofrough cloth, like other peasants."
"He may have dyed his skin," the officer said. "At any rate, wewill stay until he returns, and question him. Two of my men shalltake their places just inside the entrance, and seize him as heenters. Has he arms?"
"None, save his knife and the stick with which he kills the snakes.It may be that he has seen you coming hither and, if he hascommitted any crime, he would flee, and not return here at all."
"If he does not come back before it is the hour when I must returnto the town, I shall leave four men to watch for him; and they willwait here, if it is for a week, until he comes back again."
"You can do as you please," the priest said, "only I pray youwithdraw your men from the neighbourhood of this cell. I would notthat my meditations were disturbed by their talk. I have comehither for peace and quietness, and to be apart from the world andits distractions."
"You shall not be disturbed," the officer said respectfully, andStanley heard a movement of feet, and then the closing of the door.
Thinking it probable that the officer might make a search round thetemple, he at once made off into the wood behind the temple. Assoon as he was well among the trees, he exchanged his cloth for thedisguise he had worn in the town and, folding it up to be used as ablanket at night, he went further into the wood, sat down, andproceeded to think what his next step had best be. It was evidentthat he could not return to the temple for the present; and it wasclear, also, that the search for him was still maintained, and thatit would not be safe to attempt to descend the river. He regrettedthat he had been obliged to leave the place without saying goodbyeto the priest, and again thanking him for the shelter that he hadgiven him; but he was sure that, when he did not return, the oldman would guess that he had caught sight of the officer and hisparty entering the temple, and had at once fled. Had he not knownthat the guard would remain there, he would have waited until theyreturned to the town, and would then have gone in and seen thepriest; but as they would remain there for some days, he thought itwas as well to abandon all idea of returning, as the suspicionsthat he might be the man sought for would be heightened by hiscontinued absence, and the watch might be continued for a longtime, on the chance of his coming back.
He concluded that, at any rate, his best course would be toendeavour to make his way for a considerable distance down thecountry; and then to try and get a boat. He knew that the countrynear the river was comparatively thickly populated, and that thedistances between the villages were not great, so that he wouldfind no great difficulty in purchasing provisions. The dress he hadbrought with him was not altogether unfavourable for such apurpose, as he could easily pass as a sub-officer, whose duty itwas to inquire whether the villages had each sent all theirable-bodied men to the war. The only drawback to it would be that,if instructions for his arrest had been sent down to the villagesalong the road, as well as those by the river, they would haveprobably been directed to specially look for one clad in suchattire. However, it would be open to him, at any moment, to take tohis peasant's disguise again.
He at last determined to make a start and, by nightfall, hadtraversed several miles through the great forest stretching alongby the side of the Panlaung river. He had asked many questions ofhis friend the officer, as they went up to the temple, as to theroads. He was told that there was one running almost due south toRamuthayn, by which he could travel down to Rangoon, by way ofTannoo. This, however, would take him a long distance from the mainriver, and he decided that he would presently strike the road thatran about halfway between the hills and the Irrawaddy. He wouldfollow that for a time, and would try and strike the riversomewhere between Meloun and Keow-Uan.
Below this point there was a network of rivers, and but fewvillages, and the country was swampy and unhealthy. He infinitelypreferred the risks of the descent by the river to those by road;and it seemed to him that, if he could but obtain possession of oneof the small native fishing boats, he could drop down at night,unnoticed, as the width of the river at Ava was upwards of athousand yards and, below that town, often considerably exceededthat breadth.
When it became too dark to proceed further, he sat down at the footof a tree. He regretted that he had no means of lighting a fire;and determined that, at any risk, he would obtain the means ofdoing so at the first village that he came to--for he knew thatthere were both tigers and leopards in the jungles. He thought,however, that they were not likely to be numerous, so near thecapital; and the old priest had never alluded to them as a sourceof danger though, indeed, it had never occurred to him to ask.
In the morning he continued his way. He had gone but a mile when heheard a sudden scream in the wood, a short distance to his left.Feeling sure that it was a human being, in great fear or pain, hedrew his knife and ran, at the top of his speed, in the directionof the cry; thinking that it might be some man, or woman, attackedby the robbers of the forest.
Suddenly he came upon a small open space, some twenty yards indiameter. He hesitated, when his eyes fell on a group in thecentre. Two men were lying on the ground, and a leopard stood witha paw on each of them. They had guns lying beside them, and a firewas burning close by. He guessed that the animal had sprung from atree, one of whose boughs extended almost as far as the centre ofthe opening. Probably it had killed one of the men in its springfor, at the moment when he saw the animal, it was licking the bloodfrom the shoulder of the man on whom its right paw rested. Theother was, as far as Stanley could see, unhurt.
Illustration: Stanley gave a sudden spring, and buried his knife inthe leopard.
His tread in the light Burmese shoes had been almost noiseless; andthe leopard, which was keeping up a low growling, and whose backwas towards him, had apparently not noticed it. He hesitated for amoment, and then decided to endeavour to save the man who was stillalive. Creeping up stealthily, he gave a sudden spring upon theleopard, and buried his knife to the hilt in its body, just behindthe shoulder.
With a terrible roar, it rolled over for a moment, and thenstruggled to its feet. The time had been sufficient for Stanley topick up and cock one of the guns and, as the leopard turned tospring at him, he aimed between its eyes and fired. Again the beastrolled over, and Stanley caught up the other gun, thrust the muzzlewithin a foot of its head, and fired. The leopard gave a convulsivequiver, and lay dead.
