insisted the
girl.

Anderssen shook his head.

"Ay don't tank Ay join anybody any more after Ay tal the Russian you
ban dead," he said.

"You don't mean that you think he will kill you?" asked Jane, and yet
in her heart she knew that that was exactly what the great scoundrel
would do in revenge for his having been thwarted by the Swede.
Anderssen did not reply, other than to warn her to silence and point
toward the path along which they had just come.

"I don't care," whispered Jane Clayton. "I shall not let you die to
save me if I can prevent it in any way. Give me your revolver. I can
use that, and together we may be able to hold them off until we can
find some means of escape."

"It won't work, lady," replied Anderssen. "They would only get us
both, and then Ay couldn't do you no good at all. Think of the kid,
lady, and what it would be for you both to fall into Rokoff's hands
again. For his sake you must do what Ay say. Here, take my rifle and
ammunition; you may need them."

He shoved the gun and bandoleer into the shelter beside Jane. Then he
was gone.

She watched him as he returned along the path to meet the oncoming
safari of the Russian. Soon a turn in the trail hid him from view.

Her first impulse was to follow. With the rifle she might be of
assistance to him, and, further, she could not bear the terrible
thought of being left alone at the mercy of the fearful jungle without
a single friend to aid her.

She started to crawl from her shelter with the intention of running
after Anderssen as fast as she could. As she drew the baby close to
her she glanced down into its little face.

How red it was! How unnatural the little thing looked. She raised
the cheek to hers. It was fiery hot with fever!

With a little gasp of terror Jane Clayton rose to her feet in the
jungle path. The rifle and bandoleer lay forgotten in the shelter
beside her. Anderssen was forgotten, and Rokoff, and her great peril.

All that rioted through her fear-mad brain was the fearful fact that
this little, helpless child was stricken with the terrible
jungle-fever, and that she was helpless to do aught to allay its
sufferings--sufferings that were sure to coming during ensuing
intervals of partial consciousness.

Her one thought was to find some one who could help her--some woman who
had had children of her own--and with the thought came recollection of
the friendly village of which Anderssen had spoken.