He was a little vexed, too. The Chinaman preserved a profound silence.
"What do you want?" asked Heyst sternly.
"Boat out there," said the Chinaman.
"Where? What do you mean? Boat adrift in the straits?"
Some subtle change in Wang's bearing suggested his being out of breath;
but he did not pant, and his voice was steady.
"No--row."
It was Heyst now who was startled and raised his voice.
"Malay man, eh?"
Wang made a slight negative movement with his head.
"Do you hear, Lena?" Heyst called out. "Wang says there is a boat in
sight--somewhere near apparently. Where's that boat Wang?"
"Round the point," said Wang, leaping into Malay unexpectedly, and in a
loud voice. "White men three."
"So close as that?" exclaimed Heyst, moving out on the veranda followed
by Wang. "White men? Impossible!"
Over the clearing the shadows were already lengthening. The sun
hung low; a ruddy glare lay on the burnt black patch in front of
the bungalow, and slanted on the ground between the straight, tall,
mast-like trees soaring a hundred feet or more without a branch. The
growth of bushes cut off all view of the jetty from the veranda. Far
away to the right Wang's hut, or rather its dark roof of mats, could
be seen above the bamboo fence which insured the privacy of the Alfuro
woman. The Chinaman looked that way swiftly.
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