He thought the incident was ended. He was mistaken; Elsie
was able to recall each word subsequently. At the moment she was
recording impressions with uncomprehending accuracy, but her mind was
quite incapable of analyzing them; that would come later.
The lantern was brought. Courtenay stood on the lowermost rail, and
carefully paid out a rope to which the light was slung. He was far too
brave a man to take undue risks. He was ready to shoot instantly if
need be, and, by his instructions, Tollemache and Walker kept watch as
best they could in case other canoes were lying close to the ship.
Any doubt in this regard was dispelled in a singular manner. The
flickering rays of the lantern had barely revealed the primitive craft
lying alongside when a voice came from the depths, crying in broken
Spanish:
"Don't shoot, senors--spare me, for the love of heaven! I am a white
man from Argentina."
Christobal and Elsie alone understood the exact significance of the
words. Courtenay, of course, knew what language was being spoken, and
it was easy to guess the nature of the appeal. But the lantern showed
that the canoe was empty.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175