Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. She rang again with the same result. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. I must tell you all about God’s land, this marvellous virgin country, with its silent forests and dazzling peaks. Better take these sandwiches.
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