Presently a figure emerged from the shadows into the faint light thrown by the single lamp that burned above, and though it was wrapped in a dark cloak, Jeekie knew at once that it was not the Asika.  Very stealthily the figure crept towards him, as a leopard might creep, and bent down to examine him.  The movement caused the cloak to slip a little, and for an instant Jeekie caught sight of the wasted, half-crazed face of the Mungana, and of a long, curved knife that glittered in his hand.  Paralyzed with fear, he lay quite still, knowing that should he show the slightest sign of consciousness that knife would pierce his heart.

The Mungana watched him a while, then satisfied that he slept, turned round and, bending himself almost double, glided with infinite precautions towards Alan’s bed, which stood some twelve or fourteen feet away.  Silently as a snake that uncoils itself, Jeekie slipped from between his blankets and crept after him, his naked feet making no noise upon the mat-strewn floor.  So intent was the Mungana upon the deed which he had come to do that he never looked back, and thus it happened that the two of them reached the bed one immediately behind the other.

Alan was lying on his back with his throat exposed, a very easy victim.  For a moment the Mungana stared.  Then he erected himself like a snake about to strike, and lifted the great curved knife, taking aim at Alan’s naked breast.  Jeekie erected himself also, and even as the knife began to fall, with one hand he caught the arm that drove it and with the other the murderer’s throat.  The Mungana fought like a wild-cat, but Jeekie was too strong for him.  His fingers held the man’s windpipe like a vise.  He choked and weakened; the knife fell from his hand.  He sank to the ground and lay there helpless, whereon Jeekie knelt upon his chest and, possessing himself of the knife, held it within an inch of his heart.

It was at this juncture that Alan woke up and asked sleepily what was the matter.

“Nothing, Major,” answered Jeekie in low and cheerful tones.  “Snake just going to bite you and I catch him, that all,” and he gave an extra squeeze to the Mungana’s throat, who turned black in the face and rolled his eyes.

“Be careful, Jeekie, or you will kill the man,” exclaimed Alan, recognizing the Mungana and taking in the situation.

“Why not, Major?  He want kill you, and me too afterwards.  Good riddance of bad rubbish, as Book say.”

“I am not so sure, Jeekie.  Give him air and let me think.  Tell him that if he makes any noise, he dies.”

Jeekie obeyed, and the Mungana’s darkening eyes grew bright again as he drew his breath in great sobs.

“Now, friend,” said Alan in Asiki, “why did you wish to stab me?”

“Because I hate you,” answered the man, “who to-morrow will take my place and the wife I love.”

“As a year or two ago you took someone else’s place, eh?  Well, suppose now that I don’t want either your place or your wife.”