Читать книгу The Perfect World. A romance of strange people and strange places онлайн

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The boys turned away sick at heart from the horrible sight—and when they did look again—all trace of Wolta had vanished—there remained only the same stain on the bosom of the water. The two bearers calmly folded up the collapsible coffin and slung it across their shoulders;—it was quite ready for the next victim that death might claim.

“It’s horrible,” said Desmond with a shudder. “I wonder whether they give all their dead to those filthy man-eating fish?”

“I should think so,” answered Alan. “Their idea of burial seems worse than some of the rites of the South Sea Islanders.”

Their days passed in sickening monotony, and their lungs ached for fresh air and salt breezes. They spoke to no one, saw no one but Okwa, and they were getting into such a state of nerves, they could hardly converse sanely one with the other. Okwa came in one day and intimated that they could go out. Moodily they walked down the streets and made their way to a river near by—a guard, as usual, following close behind. They sat down on the steep mossy banks that led to the water’s edge; depressed and wretched they remained moody and silent. Suddenly there came the sound of a scuffle behind them—a startled cry and a splash. A little girl had stumbled, and rolling down the slippery bank was struggling in the water. The current was very strong, and the little maid, swimmer though she was, was unable to battle with the rapids. Twice her head had disappeared from sight.