Jane Porter's Esmeralda was in a constant state of tears at the cruel fate which had separated her from her "po, li'le honey."Lord Tennington's great-hearted good nature never deserted him for a moment.He was still the jovial host, seeking always for the comfort and pleasure of his guests.With the men of his yacht he remained the just but firm commander --there was never any more question in the jungle than there had been on board the LADY ALICE as to who was the final authority in all questions of importance, and in all emergencies requiring cool and intelligent leadership.
Could this well-organized and comparatively secure party of castaways have seen the ragged, fear-haunted trio a few miles south of them they would scarcely have recognized in them the formerly immaculate members of the little company that had laughed and played upon the LADY ALICE.
Clayton and Monsieur Thuran were almost naked, so torn had their clothes been by the thorn bushes and tangled vegetation of the matted jungle through which they had been compelled to force their way in search of their ever more difficult food supply.
Jane Porter had of course not been subjected to these strenuous expeditions, but her apparel was, nevertheless, in a sad state of disrepair.
Clayton, for lack of any better occupation, had carefully saved the skin of every animal they had killed.By stretching them upon the stems of trees, and diligently scraping them, he had managed to save them in a fair condition, and now that his clothes were threatening to cover his nakedness no longer, he commenced to fashion a rude garment of them, using a sharp thorn for a needle, and bits of tough grass and animal tendons in lieu of thread.
The result when completed was a sleeveless garment which fell nearly to his knees.As it was made up of numerous small pelts of different species of rodents, it presented a rather strange and wonderful appearance, which, together with the vile stench which permeated it, rendered it anything other than a desirable addition to a wardrobe.But the time came when for the sake of decency he was compelled to don it, and even the misery of their condition could not prevent Jane Porter from laughing heartily at sight of him.
Later, Thuran also found it necessary to construct a similar primitive garment, so that, with their bare legs and heavily bearded faces, they looked not unlike reincarnations of two prehistoric progenitors of the human race.Thuran acted like one.
Nearly two months of this existence had passed when the first great calamity befell them.It was prefaced by an adventure which came near terminating abruptly the sufferings of two of them--terminating them in the grim and horrible manner of the jungle, forever.
Thuran, down with an attack of jungle fever, lay in the shelter among the branches of their tree of refuge.
Clayton had been into the jungle a few hundred yards in search of food.As he returned Jane Porter walked to meet him.Behind the man, cunning and crafty, crept an old and mangy lion.For three days his ancient thews and sinews had proved insufficient for the task of providing his cavernous belly with meat.For months he had eaten less and less frequently, and farther and farther had he roamed from his accustomed haunts in search of easier prey.At last he had found nature's weakest and most defenseless creature--in a moment more Numa would dine.
Clayton, all unconscious of the lurking death behind him, strode out into the open toward Jane.He had reached her side, a hundred feet from the tangled edge of jungle when past his shoulder the girl saw the tawny head and the wicked yellow eyes as the grasses parted, and the huge beast, nose to ground, stepped softly into view.
So frozen with horror was she that she could utter no sound, but the fixed and terrified gaze of her fear-widened eyes spoke as plainly to Clayton as words.A quick glance behind him revealed the hopelessness of their situation.
