asleep.

But Jeekie did not sleep, although he too lay down upon his bed. On the
contrary, he remained wide awake and reflected, more deeply perhaps
than he had ever done before, being sure the superstition as to the
dependence of Alan's life upon his own was now worn very thin, and that
his hour was at hand. He thought of making Alan's wild attempt to
depart impossible by the simple method of warning the Asika, but,
notwithstanding his native selfishness, was too loyal to let that idea
take root in his mind. No, there was nothing to be done; if the Major
wished to start, the Major must start, and he, Jeekie, must pay the
price. Well, he deserved it, who had been fool enough to listen to the
secret promptings of Little Bonsa and conduct him to Asiki-land.

Thus he passed several hours, for the most part in melancholy
speculations as to the exact fashion of his end, until at length
weariness overcame him also and, shutting his eyes, Jeekie began to
doze. Suddenly he grew aware of the presence of some other person in
the room, but thinking that it was only the Asika prowling about in her
uncanny fashion, or perhaps her spirit, for how her body entered the
place he could not guess, he did not stir, but lay breathing heavily and
watching out of the corner of his eye.

Presently a figure emerged from the shadows into the faint light thrown
by the single lamp that burned above, and though it was wrapped in
a dark cloak, Jeekie knew at once that it was not the Asika. Very
stealthily the figure crept towards him, as a leopard might creep,
and bent down to examine him. The movement caused the cloak to slip
a little, and for an instant Jeekie caught sight of the wasted,
half-crazed face of the Mungana, and of a long, curved knife that