Читать книгу Lolóma, or two years in cannibal-land. A story of old Fiji онлайн

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I was fleet of foot, and very lightly clad, having nothing on but boots, white duck trousers, and a shirt. I sprang like a deer into the jungle and ran for the hills like the wind. A number of the natives darted after me, but I soon saw that the only one who was likely to overtake me was the objectionable individual who had charge of the cooking preparations. He was a well-formed man of about 25, but had some loathsome sores on his body, which did not, however, affect his health. He had the advantage of knowing the country, and of carrying nothing in the way of clothes but a slight loin-cloth of tapa, worn in the form of a T bandage, while his well-oiled body enabled him to bear exposure to the sun, and helped him to glide through opposing brambles.

In threading the luxuriant tropical forest with the matted network of the tangled undergrowths which impeded me at every turn, my pursuer rapidly gained upon me, but whenever it was a question of open ground, as sometimes happened for a time, as I began to ascend one of the numerous ravines which radiate from the highest point of the island to the sea, I saw that I fully held my own. My enemy, nevertheless, showed no sign of flagging. It was a race for life, and I was not likely to give in while there was a breath left in my body.