Then I looked up and saw a head peering down
into the amphitheatre--the head of Dunnoo, my dog-boy, who attended to my
collies. As soon as he had attracted my attention, he held up his hand and
showed a rope. I motioned. staggering to and fro for the while, that he should
throw it down. It was a couple of leather punkah-ropes knotted together, with
a loop at one end. I slipped the loop over my head and under my arms; heard
Dunnoo urge something forward; was conscious that I was being dragged, face
downward, up the steep sand slope, and the next instant found myself choked
and half fainting on the sand hills overlooking the crater. Dunnoo, with his
face ashy grey in the moonlight, implored me not to stay but to get back to my
tent at once.
It seems that he had tracked Pornic's footprints fourteen miles across the
sands to the crater; had returned and told my servants, who flatly refused to
meddle with any one, white or black, once fallen into the hideous Village of
the Dead; whereupon Dunnoo had taken one of my ponies and a couple of punkah-
ropes, returned to the crater, and hauled me out as I have described.
To cut a long story short, Dunnoo is now my personal servant on a gold mohur a
month--a sum which I still think far too little for the services he has
rendered.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254