And here's a man beaten, cast
into prison--"
He shoved both fists out on the table, and bowed his white head.
"My safety is nothing. But yours--and his.--To keep one, I desert the
other. Either way." The padre groaned. "What must I choose?"
"We're all quite helpless," said Heywood, gently. "Quite. It's a long
way to the nearest gunboat."
"Tell me," repeated the other, stubbornly.
At the same moment it happened that the cries came louder along the
river-bank, and that some one bounded up the stairs.
The runner was Rudolph. All morning he had gone about his errands very
calmly, playing the man of action, in a new philosophy learned
overnight. But now he forgot to imitate his teacher, and darted in, so
headlong that all the dogs came with him, bouncing and barking.
"Look," he called, stumbling toward the farther window, while Flounce
the terrier and a wonk puppy ran nipping at his heels. "Come, look at
them! Out on the river!"
CHAPTER XIII
THE SPARE MAN
Beyond the scant greenery of Heywood's garden--a ropy little banyan, a
low rank of glossy whampee leaves, and the dusty sage-green tops of
stunted olives--glared the river.
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