He stood there, rubbing his injured shoulder, and Rainsford, with fear again gripping his heart, heard the general's mocking laugh ring through the jungle.
"Rainsford," called the general, "if you are within sound of my voice, as I suppose you are, let me congratulate you.
Not many men know how to make a Malay mancatcher.
Luckily for me I, too, have hunted in Malacca.
You are proving interesting, Mr. Rainsford.
I am going now to have my wound dressed; it's only a slight one.
But I shall be back.
I shall be back."
When the general, nursing his bruised shoulder, had gone, Rainsford took up his flight again.
It was flight now, a desperate, hopeless flight, that carried him on for some hours.