“You’ll think nothing of it some day.  You’ve been very kind, and I’m immensely obliged to you.  By the way, will you ask Daventry, in case I forget it, to send a cable to my sister to say that I’m all right?”

“I won’t forget.  Now shall we go?”

They found that a small crowd had collected round the aeroplane.  Mr. Daventry and Mr. Van Kloof were there, with several other Englishmen, and a number of Chinese coolies and nondescript natives stood at a little distance, gazing in wondering silence.  Rodier had his watch in his hand, and looked reproachfully at his employer.  Smith pressed through the crowd, shaking hands with the Englishmen one after another, but declaring that he had no time for talking.  He shook hands with the Daventrys and Miss Bunce last of all, thanking them very heartily for their assistance; then, calling for a clear space, he followed Rodier to his seat.  Almost before the onlookers could realize what was happening, the aeroplane was in action, and while they were still discussing the extraordinary nature of this means of locomotion, it had soared into the air, flown humming away from them, and become a mere speck in the eastern sky.

They were scarcely clear of the ground before Rodier, raising his voice to a bellow, shouted—­

“Mister!”

“Yes.  What?” replied Smith, fearing that something was wrong.

“Mister!  We are four hours ten minutes late!”

INTERLUDE

“I’m afraid it’s all up, doctor.”

Day had just broken.  Lieutenant Underhill, standing rifle in hand at his post in a corner of the barricade, addressed Dr. Thesiger Smith, who had come to relieve him.

“You think we can’t hope for relief?” replied the doctor.

“Yes.  The boat must have foundered, or got lost, or perhaps has fallen into the hands of the savages.  We’ve come to our last tin of biscuits; we’ve hardly ten rounds of cartridges among us.”

“What can we do then?”

“Either fight till we drop, or give in; there’s nothing else.  The end will be the same either way, but the first would be the quicker.”

The doctor stroked his beard with his thin hand.  His son joined them; not the ruddy, clean-shaven youth that had landed from the wreck twelve days before, but a gaunt man whose hollow cheeks were dark with a stubby beard.

“Underhill gives up hope at last,” said his father.

“Then I’m ashamed of him,” said Tom cheerfully.  “Never say die.  Go and have a sleep, old man; it’s enough to give any one the blues, keeping watch in the dark.  You’ll feel better after a nap.  Had any trouble?”

“No, they haven’t made a sound.  I almost wish they had.  Anything would be better than this eternal keeping watch for an enemy that’s afraid to come on.”

“Well, not being a fighting man, I prefer for my part to keep a whole skin as long as I can.  Go and sleep, and the pater and I will talk things over.”