After the officer left him, Stanley sat thinking for a long time.
He himself inclined strongly towards the river; but he saw that, at
present, the difficulties would be very great. The war boats were
passing up and down, and bodies of troops were being carried down
in large craft. In every village the men, he knew, were assembling
and drilling. Even in Ava he could see the difference in the
population, the proportion of men to women having markedly
decreased 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, it
would be necessary to go into the villages to buy provisions.
Indeed, money would have been almost useless, for there was no
coined money in Burma; payments being made in lead, for small
amounts, or in silver for large ones--the quantity necessary being
cut off from small sticks or bars, or paid in filings.
It seemed to him that the best thing would be to take to the
forest, 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 and
orchards at night, and so manage to hold on for a few weeks. His
friend told him that, in the forests along the principal lines of
route to the capital, were many bad characters--persons who had
committed crime and fled from justice. Some were cultivators who,
having been unable to pay their taxes, had deserted their land and
taken to the woods. All committed depredations, and traders coming
into the town from the Shan states, or from the country where
rubies and emeralds were found, always travelled in caravans for
mutual protection. At times levies were called out, and many of
these marauders were killed.
Stanley, then, had hit upon nothing definite when the officer
returned in the afternoon and, in reply to the latter's question,
he acknowledged at once that the only thing he could see was to
take to the forest, until the active search for him had ceased.
"You would find it difficult to maintain yourself. I have thought
of a better way than that. I am acquainted with a Phongee, who
lives in a temple in a lonely spot, four miles away. He is a good
man, though somewhat strange in his habits; and I feel sure that,
on my recommendation, he would take you in. There would be little
chance of your being discovered there. You could not go dressed as
you are, but must disguise yourself as a peasant; though it might
be 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 of
food; there will be enough to eat, but it will be of the simplest."
"So that there is enough to keep life together, it matters little
what it is."
"Then that is settled.
"Now, about making your escape from here. Your door is closely
barred, at night; and there is no window save those four little
holes, high up in the wall, which scarce a bird could get through."
"I could cut through the thatch above," Stanley said, "if I had but
something that I could stand upon to do so. There are some bamboos
lying just at the bottom of the steps. With these and some cord I
might make a sort of ladder, and should then be able to get at the
thatch."
"I will bring you some cord, tomorrow, for that and to let yourself
down to the ground. Then I will arrange where to meet you, and will
guide you out of the town and take you to the priest. I will bring
a disguise for you, and some stain for your body and arms for, as a
peasant, you would be naked to the waist. I can think of nothing
better."
"I thank you most heartily," Stanley said, "and trust that you may
get 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 have
been away from the town. I am greatly afraid that this will be all
that I shall be able to do for you; for I am told that I am to go
down the river with the next batch of troops, which will start in
three days. I have only been informed of it since I saw you this
morning. Had it not been for you I should have been glad; for it is
in 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 is
the same with us; when there is a war, every officer and soldier
hopes that his regiment will be sent there. However, I shall see
you again.
"Has Bandoola's army moved yet?"
"No; nor do I think that it will do so. It is a long march down to
Rangoon 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 are
driven out, he will be joined by a great army, and will march to
Dacca. There our troops from the north will join him; and then he
will go to India, we think."
"I fancy," Stanley said with a smile, "if he waits until we are
turned 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 the
circular band that was worn by the lower class, instead of a
complete turban; and a lot of horse hair to be worn on the top of
the head.
"Now," he said, "strip to the waist, and I will dye your body. I
have dyes of two colours here; one for the skin, and the other to
draw lines on the face, so as to make you look older; and with this
I can also imitate tattoo marks on your chest and shoulders. Here
is 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 bamboo
poles, taking care that no one observes you do so. There is seldom
anyone in the courtyard. I have had the knife sharpened, and it
will cut through the thatch, easily enough. When you get away, walk
straight to the market that lies nearest to us. I will be at its
entrance. It will take you, I suppose, two hours to make your
ladder and get out. You cannot begin until the guard closes your
door. You tell me he never comes in."
"No, he brings the last meal an hour before sunset. I generally sit
on the top of the steps, till he comes up to lock the door, which
is about nine o'clock; and I do not see him again until he unbars
the door in the morning. I should not think that it will take as
long as two hours to make the ladder, and cut the thatch; at any
rate, 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, if
an enemy were near. There is no guard anywhere."
After staining Stanley's skin, the officer waited a quarter of an
hour for it to dry thoroughly; and then proceeded to draw lines on
his face, across the forehead, and from the corners of his eyes;
and then spent nearly an hour in executing rough tattoo marks on
his body and arms.
"This dye is very good, and will last for weeks before it begins to
fade. I will bring with me another bottle, tonight, so that you can
at least re-dye your skin.
"Here is some wax. You must turn your hair up from the neck, and
plaster it in its place with it. The turban will prevent anyone
seeing how short the hair is. Here is a little bottle of black dye,
with which you had better colour it, before fixing it with the
wax."
Stanley's hair had not been cut for some time before he had been
captured by the Burmese and, in the two months that had since
elapsed, it had grown very long; and could therefore be turned up
as the officer suggested. Putting on his usual garments, he sat at
his place, at the door of the cell, until the guard brought up his
evening meal. Having eaten this, he dyed his hair and, half an hour
later, turned it up, plastering it with wax, and tied a bit of
fibre round where the turban would come.
By this time it was getting dusk. He sat at the door at the top of
the steps, until he saw that the courtyard was deserted; the guard
at 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 in
length, and two short pieces of the same wood no thicker than his
finger and, hurrying up the steps with them, laid them down against
the side of the room. Then he went to the steps again, and sat
there until he saw the guard coming across to fasten his door; when
he went in and, as soon as he heard the bars put up, began his
preparations.
First he lashed the short pieces across the ends of the two
bamboos, so as to keep them a foot apart; then he put ratlines
across, and soon had the ladder completed. He made up his clothes
into a bundle, wrapped the rough cloth round his waist, adjusted
the knot of horse hair on the top of his head, and fastened it
there with wax. He wound the turban round below, and his disguise
was complete.
Fixing the ladder against the wall he climbed it, and it was not
long before he cut a hole through the thatch of sufficient size to
pass out. The work had taken him longer than he had expected, for
it had to be done in absolute darkness; however, he was sure that
he was well within his time. Fastening the end of the rope to one
of the bamboo rafters, he descended the ladder and picked up his
bundle; then climbed up again, got halfway out of the hole, and
listened intently. Everything was quiet in the street and, in
another minute, he stood on the ground.
When he turned into the principal street, there were still many
people about. Sounds of music and singing came from the windows,
for the Burmese are very fond of music, and often pass the whole
night in playing and singing. There was no risk whatever of
detection now, and he stepped briskly along until he came to the
open space, with its rows of little thatched huts. Here he paused
for a minute, and the officer stepped out from behind a house and
joined him.
"I was not sure at first that it was you," he said. "Your disguise
is excellent. You had better follow me, now, until we get beyond
the 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 in
the city walls. He now closed up to the officer and, after another
half-hour's walk across a cultivated country, they entered a
forest. The ground now rose steadily and, after keeping on for two
miles, they emerged from the trees at the top of a hill. The space
had been cleared of timber, but it was nearly covered with bushes
and young trees. In the centre were the ruins of a temple, that had
evidently existed long before the Burmese dynasty occupied the
country, and had been erected by some older race. It was roofless;
the walls had, in places, fallen; and the ruins were covered with
vegetation.
The Burman ascended some broken steps, entered the temple, and
crossed to one of the opposite corners. A dim light was burning in
a small apartment, which had been roofed with thatch. A man was
lying, dressed, on a heap of leaves at one side. He started up as
the 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 you
here. You have not fallen into trouble, I hope?"
"In no way, good priest. I am starting, in two days, down the river
to fight the barbarians; but before I go, I want you to do me a
favour."
The Phongee smiled.
"Beyond naming you in my prayers, Thekyn, there is but little that
a hermit can do for any man."
"Not so, in this case," the officer said. "I have one here with me
who needs rest, and concealment. I would rather that you did not
ask who he is. He has done no crime, and yet he is in danger; and
for a month, maybe, he needs a shelter. Will you give it him, for
my sake?"
"Assuredly I will," the priest said. "Your father was one of my
dearest friends, in the days when I dwelt in the city. I would
gladly do all in my power for his son, and this is but a small
thing that you ask. Let him enter."
Stanley went in. The priest took down the little lamp, from a shelf
on 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 it
would pass without close examination. He is a stranger, and comes
of a race unknown to me but, as you said, it matters not to me who
he is; suffice that he is a friend of yours. He is welcome to a
share of my shelter, and my food; though the shelter is rough, and
the 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 had
observed 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 friend
is not, like you, bound by his religion not to take life; and I
know that snakes are very plentiful round here."
Snakes had formed a frequent article of his diet, since he had been
captured; and Stanley had lost the repugnance to them that he at
first felt, so the prospect of their forming the staple of his food
was not disagreeable to him. It would also afford him some
employment 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 at
least thirty pounds of rice which, alone, would keep two men alive
for a month. As regards the snakes, though I may not kill them, I
may eat them when killed; and indeed, there are few things better.
In truth, I should not be sorry to have some of the creatures out
of the way; for they swarm round here so thickly that I have to pay
great heed, when I walk, lest I step upon them."
"Have you been troubled with robbers, of late, father?" Thekyn
asked.
"They trouble me not at all," the priest said. "Men come,
sometimes. They may be robbers, or they may not. I ask no
questions. They sometimes bring fruit and other offerings, and I
know that I need not fear them. I have nought to lose, save my
life; and he would be indeed an evil man who would dare to lift his
finger against a priest--one who harms not anyone, and is ready to
share what food he has with any man who comes to him hungry."
"Well, father, I will say goodbye. I must be back to the city
before men are about, as I would not that my absence should be
discovered."
"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 about
my companion, I shall reply that he is one who has undertaken to
rid me of some of the snakes, who dispute the possession of this
place 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 your
journey down the country. There are eight pounds of it and, from
what you have seen in the market, you will know how much food can
be got for a small amount of lead. I would that I could do more for
you, and assist your flight."
"You have done much indeed, very much and, should I regain my
friends, 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 you
again."
"I hope so," the Burman said warmly. "I cannot but think that you
will 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 pray
till morning; therefore you may as well lay yourself down on these
leaves. There is another cell, like this, in the opposite corner of
the temple. In the morning you can cut boughs, and roof it like
this; 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 to
yourself, where you can go and come as you like; for in the day
women come up to consult me, and ask for my prayers--but mind how
you enter it for the first time as, like as not, there will be
snakes sheltering there."
Stanley lay awake for a time, listening to the monotonous voice of
the priest as he repeated his prayers; but his senses soon
wandered, and he slept soundly till daybreak.
His first step was to cut a stout stick, and he then proceeded to
the other cell, which was partially blocked up with stone from the
fallen roof. It took him two hours to carry this stuff out, and he
killed no less than nine snakes that he disturbed in his work. The
prospect of sleeping in a place so frequented was not a pleasant
one, especially as the cell had no door to it; and he resolved at
once to erect some sort of bed place, where he might be beyond
their reach. For this purpose he cut two poles, each three or four
inches longer than the cell. One end of each he sharpened, and
drove in between the interstices of the stone, at a distance of
some two feet and a half apart and four feet from the ground. The
other ends he hammered with a heavy stone against the opposite
wall, until they would go down no farther. Then he split up some
more wood and lashed strips, almost touching each other, underneath
the two poles, by the aid of some strong creepers. Then he filled
up the bed place, between the poles, with dry leaves.
One end of the bed was some inches higher than the other. This was
immaterial, and he felt satisfied that even the craftiest snake
could not reach him.
As to the roof, he was by no means particular about it. In this
part of Burma the rainfall is very small, the inundations being the
effect of heavy rains in the distant hill country which, as they
come down, raise the level of the rivers, in some cases, as much as
eighteen feet, and overflow the low-lying country.
Before beginning to construct the bed, he had carried the snakes
into the Phongee; after first cutting off their heads which, as he
knew, the Burmans never touch.
"This is good, indeed, my son," the priest said. "Here we have our
breakfast and dinner. I will boil some rice, and fry four of them
for breakfast."
The bed was but half completed, when he heard the priest sound a
bell. It was doubtless used as a call to prayer. However, Stanley
rightly 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. Little
was said at breakfast, which Stanley enjoyed heartily.
"So my friend Thekyn is starting for the wars. What think you of
it, my son? Shall we easily overpower these barbarians? We have
never met them in war before and, doubtless, their methods of
fighting are different from ours."
"Quite different. Their men are trained as soldiers. They act as
one man, while the Burmese fight each for himself. Then they have
cannon with them, which they can drag about quickly, and use with
great effect. Although they are few, in comparison with the armies
going down to attack them, the latter will find it very difficult
work 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 to
prove so."
"The Burmese have never been beaten yet," the priest said. "They
have been victorious over all their enemies."
"The Burmese are very brave," Stanley agreed, "but, hitherto, they
have only fought against people less warlike than themselves. Now
they have to deal with a nation that has made war a study, and
which 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 that
they are stronger than the Burmese, for the Burmese are very strong
men; but only that men who are trained to act together must,
necessarily, possess a great advantage over those who have had no
such training--who simply take up arms for the occasion and, when
the trouble is over, return to their homes and lay them by, until
called out to fight again.
"Besides, their weapons are better than yours; and they have many
cannon which, by practice, they can load and fire very quickly; and
each of which, when the armies are near each other, can fire fifty
or sixty bullets at once."
"I have heard a strange story that the barbarians have a ship
without sails, with a great chimney that pours out quantities of
black smoke, and a wheel on each side and, as the wheels move
round, 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 or
three 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 these
vessels, though I have heard of them."
The priest said no more, but evidently fell into a profound
meditation; 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 harm
me, cannot resist a shudder when I hear one rustling amid the
leaves of my bed; for they come in, although some of my friends
have had a door placed to exclude their entry at night. I wander
but little from my cell, and always close the door after me; but
they enter, sometimes, when I am meditating, and forgetful of
earthly matters, and the first I know of their presence is the
rustling of the leaves in the bed, at night. Were I as strong in
faith as I should be, I would heed it not. I tell myself so; but my
fear is stronger than my will, and I am forced to rise, turn up the
leaves with a stick until I find them, and then I open the door and
eject them, with as much gentleness as may be."
"I should get no sleep at all," Stanley said. "I don't think that
even a door would make me feel any safer, for I might forget to
shut 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 of
the temple; and this, after several days' hard work, he carried
out; although he soon saw that by so doing he would not diminish
the number of the snakes, for the greater portion of the area was
covered with blocks of fallen stone, among which the reptiles found
an impenetrable shelter. The clearance effected, however, was so
far useful that, while the creatures were before altogether hidden
from sight by the bushes, they could now be killed when they came
out to bask in the sun on the uncovered stones; and he could, every
day, destroy a dozen or more without the slightest difficulty.
Ten days after he had finished the work, he heard the sound of
men's voices and, peeping out, saw a Burmese officer with a party
of eight armed men going to the Phongee's cell. It was possible
that they might have come on other business, but it was more
probable they had come in search of him. Some of the women who had
come up to the hermit had seen him at work; and might have
mentioned, on their return, that the priest had a man at work
clearing away the bushes. The matter might have come to the ears of
some officer anxious to distinguish himself, and the idea that this
was the prisoner for whom a search was being made occurred to him.
Stanley shrank back into his cell, took up the bundle of clothes
that 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 hoisted
himself up, made his way through the boughs of the roof, and
dropped on to the ground outside. Then he went round by the back of
the temple, until he stood outside the priest's cell, and could
hear 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 me
and 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 burden
upon 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 native
of 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 comes
and goes as he pleases. He is not a hired servant, but a guest. He
cut down the bushes here, in order that he might more easily kill
the snakes; for which, indeed, I am thankful to him, not only for
the food that they afford, but because they were in such abundance,
and so fearless, that they often came in here, knowing that they
had 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 cannot
say. He is away, sometimes, for hours in the forest."
"Well, in any case, we shall watch here until his return. It may be
that he is some idle fellow, who prefers killing snakes to honest
work; but it may also be that he is the escaped prisoner of whom we
are in search."
"I hear little of what passes in the town," the priest said,
quietly. "News would disturb my meditations, and I never question
those who come here to ask for my prayers. I have heard of the
escape of no prisoner."
"It was a young English officer who got away. There has been a
great stir about it. Every house in the town has been searched, and
every guard boat on the river has been warned to allow no boat to
pass, without assuring themselves that he is not on board."
"This was a brown man, like ourselves, clad only in a petticoat of
rough cloth, like other peasants."
"He may have dyed his skin," the officer said. "At any rate, we
will stay until he returns, and question him. Two of my men shall
take their places just inside the entrance, and seize him as he
enters. 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 has
committed 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 return
to the town, I shall leave four men to watch for him; and they will
wait here, if it is for a week, until he comes back again."
"You can do as you please," the priest said, "only I pray you
withdraw your men from the neighbourhood of this cell. I would not
that my meditations were disturbed by their talk. I have come
hither for peace and quietness, and to be apart from the world and
its distractions."
"You shall not be disturbed," the officer said respectfully, and
Stanley heard a movement of feet, and then the closing of the door.
Thinking it probable that the officer might make a search round the
temple, he at once made off into the wood behind the temple. As
soon as he was well among the trees, he exchanged his cloth for the
disguise he had worn in the town and, folding it up to be used as a
blanket at night, he went further into the wood, sat down, and
proceeded to think what his next step had best be. It was evident
that he could not return to the temple for the present; and it was
clear, also, that the search for him was still maintained, and that
it would not be safe to attempt to descend the river. He regretted
that he had been obliged to leave the place without saying goodbye
to the priest, and again thanking him for the shelter that he had
given him; but he was sure that, when he did not return, the old
man would guess that he had caught sight of the officer and his
party entering the temple, and had at once fled. Had he not known
that the guard would remain there, he would have waited until they
returned to the town, and would then have gone in and seen the
priest; but as they would remain there for some days, he thought it
was as well to abandon all idea of returning, as the suspicions
that he might be the man sought for would be heightened by his
continued absence, and the watch might be continued for a long
time, on the chance of his coming back.
He concluded that, at any rate, his best course would be to
endeavour to make his way for a considerable distance down the
country; and then to try and get a boat. He knew that the country
near the river was comparatively thickly populated, and that the
distances between the villages were not great, so that he would
find no great difficulty in purchasing provisions. The dress he had
brought with him was not altogether unfavourable for such a
purpose, as he could easily pass as a sub-officer, whose duty it
was to inquire whether the villages had each sent all their
able-bodied men to the war. The only drawback to it would be that,
if instructions for his arrest had been sent down to the villages
along the road, as well as those by the river, they would have
probably been directed to specially look for one clad in such
attire. However, it would be open to him, at any moment, to take to
his peasant's disguise again.
He at last determined to make a start and, by nightfall, had
traversed several miles through the great forest stretching along
by the side of the Panlaung river. He had asked many questions of
his friend the officer, as they went up to the temple, as to the
roads. He was told that there was one running almost due south to
Ramuthayn, by which he could travel down to Rangoon, by way of
Tannoo. This, however, would take him a long distance from the main
river, and he decided that he would presently strike the road that
ran about halfway between the hills and the Irrawaddy. He would
follow that for a time, and would try and strike the river
somewhere between Meloun and Keow-Uan.
Below this point there was a network of rivers, and but few
villages, and the country was swampy and unhealthy. He infinitely
preferred 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 one
of the small native fishing boats, he could drop down at night,
unnoticed, as the width of the river at Ava was upwards of a
thousand yards and, below that town, often considerably exceeded
that breadth.
When it became too dark to proceed further, he sat down at the foot
of a tree. He regretted that he had no means of lighting a fire;
and determined that, at any risk, he would obtain the means of
doing so at the first village that he came to--for he knew that
there were both tigers and leopards in the jungles. He thought,
however, that they were not likely to be numerous, so near the
capital; and the old priest had never alluded to them as a source
of 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 he
heard 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, he
drew his knife and ran, at the top of his speed, in the direction
of the cry; thinking that it might be some man, or woman, attacked
by the robbers of the forest.
Suddenly he came upon a small open space, some twenty yards in
diameter. He hesitated, when his eyes fell on a group in the
centre. Two men were lying on the ground, and a leopard stood with
a paw on each of them. They had guns lying beside them, and a fire
was burning close by. He guessed that the animal had sprung from a
tree, one of whose boughs extended almost as far as the centre of
the opening. Probably it had killed one of the men in its spring
for, at the moment when he saw the animal, it was licking the blood
from the shoulder of the man on whom its right paw rested. The
other was, as far as Stanley could see, unhurt.
Illustration: Stanley gave a sudden spring, and buried his knife in
the leopard.
His tread in the light Burmese shoes had been almost noiseless; and
the leopard, which was keeping up a low growling, and whose back
was towards him, had apparently not noticed it. He hesitated for a
moment, and then decided to endeavour to save the man who was still
alive. Creeping up stealthily, he gave a sudden spring upon the
leopard, and buried his knife to the hilt in its body, just behind
the shoulder.
With a terrible roar, it rolled over for a moment, and then
struggled to its feet. The time had been sufficient for Stanley to
pick up and cock one of the guns and, as the leopard turned to
spring at him, he aimed between its eyes and fired. Again the beast
rolled over, and Stanley caught up the other gun, thrust the muzzle
within a foot of its head, and fired. The leopard gave a convulsive
quiver, and lay dead.