Of course he did not intend to kill Arsenic, nor even to
severely injure him, but he had thought of giving the rascal a sound
thrashing, and only hoped he could make him understand what it was for.
In the excitement of the past two weeks he had forgotten all about
Arsenic, but the sight of those ragged children had awakened his
animosity, and he had followed them, hoping that they would lead him to
the object of his just wrath. It was only when he reached the
sorry-looking tent that he remembered the other savages whom Arsenic
had brought with him on his second visit to the schooner, and wondered
if some of them might not be concealed behind the canvas screen ready
to spring upon him.
With this thought he stepped nimbly to one side as he threw open the
flap, and stood for a moment waiting for what might happen. There was
no rush of men and no sound, save only a faint cry of terror, hearing
which Cabot peered cautiously around the edge of the opening.
A poor little fire of sticks smouldered on the ground in the middle,
filling the place with a pungent smoke. Through this Cabot could at
first make out only a confused huddle at one side, from which several
pairs of eyes glared at him like those of wild beasts. As he entered
the tent a human figure detached itself from this and strove to rise,
but fell back weakly helpless. In another moment a closer view
disclosed to Cabot the whole dreadful situation.
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