By-and-by Marston lighted his pipe and tried to fix the elusive pictures
of their journey to the coast. To begin with, the night they left the
hut Wyndham owned he had a dose of fever. In the morning he was worse,
but time was valuable and they pushed on. Then, at evening when they
came down from the hills to cut the soldiers' line of march, they saw
two or three _peons_ run out from a ruined village and plunge into the
bush. Another, who was slower and was caught, stated that they had been
left behind to wait until some more troops came up. The village was
empty, but the _peon_ took the party to a hut he had been ordered to
watch. It was getting dark and when they went in Marston struck a match.
Next moment he let it drop, for a white man lay on the floor and
something strange about his attitude indicated that he was dead. Then
Rupert picked up the burning match and lighted a lantern.
Marston shuddered as his memory recaptured the scene the dim
illumination touched. The dead man had drawn up his legs and his face
was distorted, but Marston did not want to remember this. It was Peters'
face, and he knew the fellow had not met a peaceful death. Father
Sebastian knelt down by the body; Rupert stooped and smiled.
"You cannot help him and I do not think you will find a mark. I doubt if
he belonged to any flock, but it was not to yours. Anyhow, he is dead,
and you need not bother about how he died."
"Yet you know," said Father Sebastian, fixing him with steady eyes.
Rupert nodded. "He meant to sell me, and it is possible he got his
reward, although he did not enjoy it long. One could philosophize about
it, but I leave this to you. Well, I think we will not wait until his
friends arrive."
"I will wait," said Father Sebastian, firmly. "It is a duty to bury the
dead."
Rupert shrugged and looked at Marston. Wyndham, shivering with ague, had
sat down and rested his head in his hands, as if he did not know what
was going on.
"Watching the _padre_ did not run off has cost us some time," Rupert
remarked. "However, it would be awkward if he sent the next detachment
of _cazadores_ after us. I expect he knows how I would meet the
difficulty."
"We will leave you and not bother you for a promise," Marston said to
Father Sebastian, who gave him his hand.
"There is much that puzzles me and I do not know why you help this bad
man to escape, but I feel you are honest," he said. "Sometimes one must
trust without understanding." He lifted his hand solemnly. "_Vaya con
Dios!_"
Then they went out and left him in the dark with Peters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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