o eat?"

A few minutes saw the rescued man lying among blankets, while fires were
building, water was being carried, Joan's tent was going up, and Lalaperu
was overhauling the packs and opening tins of provisions. Tudor, having
pulled through the fever and started to mend, was still frightfully weak
and very much starved. So badly swollen was he from mosquito-bites that
his face was unrecognizable, and the acceptance of his identity was
largely a matter of faith. Joan had her own ointments along, and she
prefaced their application by fomenting his swollen features with hot
cloths. Sheldon, with an eye to the camp and the preparations for the
night, looked on and felt the pangs of jealousy at every contact of her
hands with Tudor's face and body. Somehow, engaged in their healing
ministrations, they no longer seemed to him boy's hands, the hands of
Joan who had gazed at Gogoomy's head with pale cheeks sprayed with angry
flame. The hands were now a woman's hands, and Sheldon grinned to
himself as his fancy suggested that some night he must lie outside the
mosquito-netting in order to have Joan apply soothing fomentations in the
morning.

CHAPTER XXV--THE HEAD-HUNTERS

The morning's action had been settled the night before. Tudor was to
stay behind in his banyan refuge and gather strength while the expedition
proceeded. On the far chance that they might rescue even one solitary
survivor of Tudor's party, Joan was fixed in her determination to push
on; and neither Sheldon nor Tudor could persuade her to remain quietly at
the banyan tree while Sheldon went on and searched. With Tudor, Adamu
Adam and Arahu were to stop as guards, the latter Tahitian being selected
to remain because of a bad foot which had been brought about by stepping
on one of the thorns concealed by the bushmen. It was evidently a slow
poison, and not too strong, that the bushmen used, for the wounded Poonga-
Poonga man was still alive, and though his swollen shoulder was enormous,
the inflammation had already begun to go down. He, too, remained with
Tudor.

Binu Charley led the way, by proxy, however, for, by means of the
poisoned spear, he drove the captive bushman ahead. The run-way still
ran through the dank and rotten jungle, and they knew no villages would
be encountered till rising ground was gained. They plodded on, panting
and sweating in the humid, stagnant air. They were immersed in a sea of
wanton, prodigal vegetation.