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with little hands out…reaching toward the young woman。
She could not withstand the appeal； and with a low cry
she sprang to her feet and gathered the baby to her breast。
For a few minutes she wept silently； her face buried in the
baby's soiled little dress。 The first shock of disappointment
that the tiny thing had not been her beloved Jack was giving
way to a great hope that after all some miracle had occurred
to snatch her baby from Rokoff's hands at the last instant
before the Kincaid sailed from England。
Then； too； there was the mute appeal of this wee waif alone
and unloved in the midst of the horrors of the savage jungle。
It was this thought more than any other that had sent her
mother's heart out to the innocent babe； while still she
suffered from disappointment that she had been deceived in
its identity。
〃Have you no idea whose child this is？〃 she asked Anderssen。
The man shook his head。
〃Not now；〃 he said。 〃If he ain't ban your kid； Ay don' know whose
kid he do ban。 Rokoff said it was yours。 Ay tank he tank so； too。
〃What do we do with it now？ Ay can't go back to the Kincaid。
Rokoff would have me shot； but you can go back。 Ay take you to the sea；
and then some of these black men they take you to the shipeh？〃
〃No！ no！〃 cried Jane。 〃Not for the world。 I would rather die
than fall into the hands of that man again。 No； let us go on
and take this poor little creature with us。 If God is willing
we shall be saved in one way or another。〃
So they again took up their flight through the wilderness；
taking with them a half…dozen of the Mosulas to carry
provisions and the tents that Anderssen had smuggled aboard
the small boat in preparation for the attempted escape。
The days and nights of torture that the young woman suffered
were so merged into one long； unbroken nightmare of
hideousness that she soon lost all track of time。 Whether they
had been wandering for days or years she could not tell。
The one bright spot in that eternity of fear and suffering was the
little child whose tiny hands had long since fastened their
softly groping fingers firmly about her heart。
In a way the little thing took the place and filled the aching
void that the theft of her own baby had left。 It could never be
the same； of course； but yet； day by day； she found her
mother…love； enveloping the waif more closely until she
sometimes sat with closed eyes lost in the sweet imagining
that the little bundle of humanity at her breast was truly her own。
For some time their progress inland was extremely slow。
Word came to them from time to time through natives passing
from the coast on hunting excursions that Rokoff had not
yet guessed the direction of their flight。 This； and the desire
to make the journey as light as possible for the gently bred
woman； kept Anderssen to a slow advance of short and easy
marches with many rests。
The Swede insisted upon carrying the child while they
travelled； and in countless other ways did what he could to
help Jane Clayton conserve her strength。 He had been terribly
chagrined on discovering the mistake he had made in the
identity of the baby； but once the young woman became
convinced that his motives were truly chivalrous she would not
permit him longer to upbraid himself for the error that he
could not by any means have avoided。
At the close of each day's march Anderssen saw to the
erection of a comfortable shelter for Jane and the child。
Her tent was always pitched in the most favourable location。
The thorn boma round it was the strongest and most
impregnable that the Mosula could construct。
Her food was the best that their limited stores and the rifle
of the Swede could provide； but the thing that touched her
heart the closest was the gentle consideration and courtesy
which the man always accorded her。
That such nobility of character could lie beneath so repulsive
an exterior never ceased to be a source of wonder and
amazement to her； until at last the innate chivalry of the man；
and his unfailing kindliness and sympathy transformed his
appearance in so far as Jane was concerned until she saw
only the sweetness of his character mirrored in his countenance。
They had commenced to make a little better progress when
word reached them that Rokoff was but a few marches behind
them； and that he had at last discovered the direction of
their flight。 It was then that Anderssen took to the river；
purchasing a canoe from a chief whose village lay a short
distance from the Ugambi upon the bank of a tributary。
Thereafter the little party of fugitives fled up the broad
Ugambi； and so rapid had their flight become that they no
longer received word of their pursuers。 At the end of canoe
navigation upon the river； they abandoned their canoe and
took to the jungle。 Here progress became at once arduous；
slow； and dangerous。
The second day after leaving the Ugambi the baby fell ill
with fever。 Anderssen knew what the outcome must be； but
he had not the heart to tell Jane Clayton the truth； for he had
seen that the young woman had come to love the child almost
as passionately as though it had been her own flesh and blood。
As the baby's condition precluded farther advance； Anderssen
withdrew a little from the main trail he had been following
and built a camp in a natural clearing on the bank
of a little river。
Here Jane devoted her every moment to caring for the tiny
sufferer； and as though her sorrow and anxiety were not all
that she could bear； a further blow came with the sudden
announcement of one of the Mosula porters who had been foraging
in the jungle adjacent that Rokoff and his party were camped
quite close to them； and were evidently upon their trail to this
little nook which all had thought so excellent a hiding…place。
This information could mean but one thing； and that they must
break camp and fly onward regardless of the baby's condition。
Jane Clayton knew the traits of the Russian well enough
to be positive that he would separate her from the child
the moment that he recaptured them； and she knew that
separation would mean the immediate death of the baby。
As they stumbled forward through the tangled vegetation
along an old and almost overgrown game trail the Mosula
porters deserted them one by one。
The men had been staunch enough in their devotion and loyalty
as long as they were in no danger of being overtaken by the
Russian and his party。 They had heard； however； so much of
the atrocious disposition of Rokoff that they had grown to
hold him in mortal terror； and now that they knew he was close
upon them their timid hearts would fortify them no longer；
and as quickly as possible they deserted the three whites。
Yet on and on went Anderssen and the girl。 The Swede
went ahead； to hew a way through the brush where the path
was entirely overgrown； so that o