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Chapter 16 - SING SPEAKS
For a week Professor Maxon with von Horn and Sing sought for Virginia. They
could get no help from the natives of the long-house, who feared the vengeance of
Muda Saffir should he learn that they had aided the white men upon his trail.
And always as the three hunted through the jungle and up and down the river
there lurked ever near a handful of the men of the tribe of the two whom von
Horn had murdered, waiting for the chance that would give them revenge and the
heads of the three they followed. They feared the guns of the white men too much
to venture an open attack, and at night the quarry never abated their
watchfulness, so that days dragged on, and still the three continued their
hopeless quest unconscious of the relentless foe that dogged their footsteps.
Von Horn was always searching for an opportunity to enlist the aid of the friendly
natives in an effort to regain the chest, but so far he had found none who would
agree to accompany him even in consideration of a large share of the booty. It
was the treasure alone which kept him to the search for Virginia Maxon, and he
made it a point to direct the hunt always in the vicinity of the spot where it was
buried, for a great fear consumed him that Ninaka might return and claim it
before he had a chance to make away with it.
Three times during the week they returned and slept at the long-house, hoping
each time to learn that the natives had received some news of her they sought,
through the wonderful channels of communication that seemed always open
across the trackless jungle and up and down the savage, lonely rivers.
For two days Bulan lay raving in the delirium of fever, while the delicate girl,
unused to hardship and exposure, watched over him and nursed him with the
loving tenderness and care of a young mother with her first born.
For the most part the young giant's ravings were inarticulate, but now and then
Virginia heard her name linked with words of reverence and worship. The man
fought again the recent battles he had passed through, and again suffered the
long night watches beside the sleeping girl who filled his heart. Then it was that
she learned the truth of his self-sacrificing devotion. The thing that puzzled her
most was the repetition of a number and a name which ran through all his
delirium--"Nine ninety nine Priscilla."
She could make neither head nor tail of it, nor was there another word to give a
clue to its meaning, so at last from constant repetition it became a commonplace
and she gave it no further thought.
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