THE SIAMESE CAT
back and blue trousers vanish into a clump of bamboo. Scarlett plunged through it next, Borkman at his heels. Guided by the crashing ahead, they fought their way as it were through a white-hot furnace stuffed crisscross with dry stalks and rasping leaves, a tangle burning to the touch, but incombustible and tough to penetrate.
Borkman swerved to the right.
"No, no! This way!" cried Scarlett, and held his course, plunging and tearing. Straightway his chase grew confused, his hearing puzzled, deceived by twofold sounds of crashing: which was the Chinaman's flight, and which the guide's pursuit? He panted on, blind and dizzy with the heat. His temples throbbed as if to burst.
Suddenly he ripped and fell through into a clearing, just in time to see Borkman dive into the opposite side, well to the right.
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