“I bet you’re dead now,” I said, and then I called to Uma.

Nothing answered, and I made a move to go and grope for her, fouled my broken leg, and fainted again.

When I came to myself the second time the clouds had all cleared away, except a few that sailed there, white as cotton.  The moon was up — a tropic moon.  The moon at home turns a wood black, but even this old butt-end of a one showed up that forest, as green as by day.  The night birds — or, rather, they’re a kind of early morning bird — sang out with their long, falling notes like nightingales.  And I could see the dead man, that I was still half resting on, looking right up into the sky with his open eyes, no paler than when he was alive; and a little way off Uma tumbled on her side.  I got over to her the best way I was able, and when I got there she was broad awake, and crying and sobbing to herself with no more noise than an insect.  It appears she was afraid to cry out loud, because of the AITUS.  Altogether she was not much hurt, but scared beyond belief; she had come to her senses a long while ago, cried out to me, heard nothing in reply, made out we were both dead, and had lain there ever since, afraid to budge a finger.  The ball had ploughed up her shoulder, and she had lost a main quantity of blood; but I soon had that tied up the way it ought to be with the tail of my shirt and a scarf I had on, got her head on my sound knee and my back against a trunk, and settled down to wait for morning.  Uma was for neither use nor ornament, and could only clutch hold of me and shake and cry.  I don’t suppose there was ever anybody worse scared, and, to do her justice, she had had a lively night of it.  As for me, I was in a good bit of pain and fever, but not so bad when I sat still; and every time I looked over to Case I could have sung and whistled.  Talk about meat and drink!  To see that man lying there dead as a herring filled me full.

The night birds stopped after a while; and then the light began to change, the east came orange, the whole wood began to whirr with singing like a musical box, and there was the broad day.

I didn’t expect Maea for a long while yet; and, indeed, I thought there was an off-chance he might go back on the whole idea and not come at all.  I was the better pleased when, about an hour after daylight, I heard sticks smashing and a lot of Kanakas laughing, and singing out to keep their courage up.  Uma sat up quite brisk at the first word of it; and presently we saw a party come stringing out of the path, Maea in front, and behind him a white man in a pith helmet.  It was Mr. Tarleton, who had turned up late last night in Falesa, having left his boat and walked the last stage with a lantern.