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Health and hope, at Herares! "Then little Daurillac ran up the gangway, laughing. I looked at him every one did and wondered. And then, to cap the wonder, the two came up to me with their friendly, confident young faces, and asked for Henkel's house. "'Turn to the left, I said. And then I added, 'You'll excuse me, but what does Henkel want of you?
But his friend, Louis Daurillac, had been in the Indies, and with some of Meyer's men in Burma after orchids. Louis's father was a great naturalist, and Louis was very clever. Yes, Henkel had got hold of him through Meyer.
The Indies of the Mazzaron desire nothing but little clocks; they like the tick. "Their men had turned down one of the jungle paths. They shook hands with me, and Scott met my eyes with his grave smile. 'Just drawing breath for the plunge, he said, with a glance at the forest beyond the last white roof. Daurillac slipped his arm through Scott's, and drew him after their slow-going hombres.
"Scott didn't answer at first, but looked me over with his considering eyes, and I remembered a collarless shirt and a four days' beard. But Daurillac said, 'He wants butterflies of us, Monsieur. I am an entomologist, and my friend he assists me. He drew up very straight, but his eyes were laughing at himself.
At the bend of the path they turned and waved to me Scott with a quick lift of the hand. But little Daurillac swept off his hat and stood half turned for a minute; the sun splashed on his dark head, on his Frenchified belt and puttees, on his white breeches, and on an outrageous pink shirt Henkel seemed to have supplied him with.
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