The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great CanalBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
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The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great Canal
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Panama Canal (Panama) -- Juvenile fiction
True enough, that number of minutes brought the whole party to the edge
of the jungle, though as to their knowing how to act, that was a very
different matter. Jim stared out into the open, and saw there five
figures, huddled within a few feet of one another, wrapped from head to
foot in blankets. Farther away were the horses, half-hidden in the
shadow cast by the far edge of the jungle, while to one side was a pile
of bags and kit, amongst which were the saddles. And little by little,
as the scene unfolded itself to our hero, and from gazing at the whole
he was able to concentrate his attention on each individual item, he was
able to decide which of the five figures was that of his sister.
"She lies to this side of what has been a fire," he told himself, "while
those rascals are on the far side. That is in our favour at any rate;
but to reach her will be a bother. How's it to be done?"
Once more his eyes passed round the clearing. They went from the figure
of Sadie to those of the band of ruffians, and from the latter to their
saddles and other possessions. Then they passed to the horses, and so
round the edge of the clearing till he found himself leaning far out
from the undergrowth and staring into the faces of his own followers.
There was Sam's, his eyes twinkling as ever in the moonlight, every
feature denoting eagerness, while the broad line across the forehead,
and beneath the tattered peak of his dirty cap, seemed to show that he,
too, was puzzling his brains as to how to act. And there was Ching's
Oriental countenance next to Sam's, the slant-like eyes gazing upon the
scene as if it were one of the most ordinary, as if he could see nothing
before him to arouse unusual interest, nothing to disturb his accustomed
equanimity. The man was actually toying with the end of his pigtail, as
if he could find nothing better to do. But who could really read those
features? Not Jim, nor Sam, nor Tom; not even a European accustomed to
China and its natives. The face was inscrutable; those blank, immobile
features hid a mind which, for all its seeming somnolence, was working
fiercely, relentlessly, and shrewdly to provide a solution for this
difficulty. For Ching was possessed of a doglike faithfulness; he would
gladly have given his life for that of "the missie" or for that of his
master. And Tom--what did his expression show? The thick lips were
moving as Jim looked, while the alæ of his wide nostrils were dilated
widely, pulsating as if with excitement. The usually merry, childish
face was set with an expression so severe that our hero was astonished.
It brought a gulp to his throat as he suddenly realized to the full what
he had known now for so long, that these three men were such true
comrades. Then back went his eyes to the figure of his sister.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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