"What's wrong?"
Heywood appeared promptly at the door.
From the road, below, a gleeful voice piped:--
"Goat-men! Baby-killers!"
In the noon blaze, Peng skipped derisively, jeered at them, performed a
brief but indecorous pantomime, and then, kicking up his heels with joy,
scurried for his life.
"Chucked his billet," said Heywood, without surprise. "Little devil, I
always thought--What's missing?"
Rudolph scanned his meagre belongings, rummaged his dressing-table,
opened a wardrobe.
"Nothing," he answered. "A boat-coolie--"
But Heywood had darted to the rack of Mausers, knelt, and sprung up,
raging.
"Side-bolts! Man," he cried, in a voice that made Rudolph jump,--"man,
why didn't you stop him? The side-bolts, all but two.--Young heathen,
he's crippled us: one pair of rifles left."
CHAPTER XIV
OFF DUTY
The last of the sunlight streamed level through a gap in the western
ridges. It melted, with sinuous, tender shadows, the dry contour of
field and knoll, and poured over all the parching land a liquid,
undulating grace. Like the shadow of clouds on ripe corn, the red tiles
of the village roofs patched the countryside.
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