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Updated: May 2, 2025
They pushed on in silence, thinking of the good, faithful Burman who had fallen, close-grappled with his enemy, into the raging torrent. From this sad reverie they were roused by the voice of the native woman speaking to Mr. Haydon. "She says that we shall soon be out in the open country," said he to his son. "Good business!" replied Jack.
They were swaying together close-grappled, her knife-hand gripped in his sinewy fingers, his evil face smiling down into hers; and I burned with wilder fury to see her tumbled hair against his coat and her garment wrenched from throat and white shoulder. Then as I sprang, with no eyes but for this man, a masterful hand gripped me, a commanding voice spoke in my ear. "Back stand back, boy!"
Suddenly into that patch of darkness there flashed a face, peeping in on the scene, and as suddenly vanishing. Jack gave a great start and a gasp. Was the torture turning his brain? He had known that face, but it was not the face of any living man. It was the face of Me Dain, their brave guide, who had fallen headlong into the raging torrent, close-grappled with his foe.
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