The effect of this malediction, which by
the way neither the young lady nor her mother would repeat to me
afterwards, was certainly remarkable. Those men who heard it, among
them the would-be slayers of Stephen, stayed their hands and even
inclined their heads towards the young priestess, as though in
reverence or deprecation, and thus remained for sufficient time for
her to lead the wounded Stephen out of danger. This she did wading
backwards by his side and keeping her eyes fixed full upon the Pongo.
It was perhaps the most curious rescue that I ever saw.
The Holy Flower, I should add, they recaptured and carried off, for I
saw it departing in one of their canoes. That was the end of my orchid
hunt and of the money which I hoped to make by the sale of this floral
treasure. I wonder what became of it. I have good reason to believe
that it was never replanted on the Island of the Flower, so perhaps it
was borne back to the dim and unknown land in the depths of Africa
whence the Pongo are supposed to have brought it when they migrated.
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