"I don't know anything about that," Grantham replied. "I only know that
they were a miserable couple, and that I did the best I could for them.
You wouldn't have had me leave them in the jungle, surely?"

"I am not aware I have said so," the other answered stiffly. "The only
thing I object to is your treating them as if they were martyrs, when in
all probability they deserve all the punishment they have received."

Grantham was too wise to carry the argument any further. He knew that
when Handiman was in his present humour the best thing to do was to
leave him alone in it. He accordingly returned to the hut where the two
men were domiciled, and attended to their comfort as far as lay in his
power. His heart had been touched by their misery. He did not give as a
reason for the trouble he took, the fact that the face of the elder man
reminded him of his own venerable father, the worthy old Somersetshire
vicar; it was a fact, nevertheless. For a week the unfortunate couple
were domiciled at the Ford, and during that time Grantham attended to
their wants with the assiduity of a blood relation. Meanwhile Handiman
scoffed and bade him take heed for his valuables, lest his new-found
friends should appropriate them. He did not believe in honest gratitude,
he declared, particularly where homeless wanderers in the Burmese jungle
were concerned. At last, however, they were so far recovered as to be
able to proceed on their way once more.

"We have to thank you for your lives, sir," said Kitwater to Grantham
when the time came for them to say good-bye to the Ford. "Had it not
been for you we would probably be dead men now. I don't know whether we
shall ever be able to repay your kindness, that is with Allah, but if
the opportunity should ever arise you may be sure we will not neglect