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Walker nodded in reply and his boat pushed off. But it stuck in his mind for the greater part of that day that the prison adjoined the Court-house and so formed part of the ground floor of the Residency. Had Hatteras connived at his escape? Had the judge secretly set free the prisoner whom he had publicly condemned? The question troubled Walker considerably during his month of absence, and stood in the way of his business. He learned for the first time how much he loved his friend and how eagerly he watched for the friend's advancement. Each day added to his load of anxiety. He dreamed continually of a black-painted man slipping among the tree-boles nearer and nearer towards the red glow of a fire in some open space secure amongst the swamps,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], where hideous mysteries had their celebration. He cut short his business and hurried back from Bonny. He crossed at once to the Residency and found his friend in a great turmoil of affairs. Walker came back from Bonny a month later and hurried across to his friend.
"Jim," said Hatteras, starting up, "I've got a year's leave; I am going home."
"Dicky!" cried Walker, and he nearly wrung Hatteras' hand from his arm. "That's grand news."
"Yes,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], old man,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I thought you would be glad; I sail in a fortnight." And he did.
For the first month Walker was glad. A year's leave would make a new man of Dick Hatteras, he thought,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], or, at all events,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], restore the old man, sane and sound, as he had been before he came to the West African coast. During the second month Walker began to feel lonely. In the third he bought a banjo and learnt it during the fourth and fifth. During the sixth he began to say to himself,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], "What a time poor Dick must have had all those six years with those cursed forests about him. I don't wonder--I don't wonder." He turned disconsolately to his banjo and played for the rest of the year; all through the wet season while the rain came down in a steady roar and only the curlews cried--until Hatteras returned. He returned at the top of his spirits and health. Of course he was hall-marked West African, but no man gets rid of that stamp. Moreover there was more than health in his expression. There was a new look of pride in his eyes and when he spoke of a bachelor it was in terms of sympathetic pity.