Page:Hugh Pendexter--Tiberius Smith.djvu/307

 they'd get a knife or a kick in the neck at any minute, demonstrated how dear to their hearts were Feeney's orders, and we got no fresh air. There they were when the sun vanished and the tropical night rushed in. Then torches were lighted outside and the bevy of villagers still kept at work, while above the clamor we occasionally heard the hearty laughter of the chief and knew the point of his joke had lost none of its savor. Evidently he was preparing a four-page comic supplement in five colors; and the very knowledge that he was outdoing himself kept slumber on the side lines.

"And as if I didn't have enough to fret over, Tib began to go light-headed from a taste of the swamp fever, and talk rapidly in a hectic-flush kind of a voice. 'We don't know what it is, but you can anticipate it is very complete and finished as to detail,' he mumbled, as the sound of the laborers grew scant in the coming gray of the morning. Then, 'Good-bye, My Sweet,' he began to babble, in his clear, seven-story tenor, as our guards silently rose and left us.

"‘I say, old chap, don't,' I begged, 'It's almost sacrilegious.'

"‘You silly jade,' he quizzed, the red spots on his plump cheeks now glowing as if stamped with a stencil. 'Great Scott!' next he muttered, while I sat with despairing head ensconced in my hands.