In Search of the Okapi / A Story of Adventure in Central Africa

by Ernest Glanville

CHAPTER VII

THE THOUSAND ISLANDS

They shoved off again, and Compton, being the least tired, took the sculls and pushed on slowly in search of an anchorage for the night. They passed many likely places, but Mr. Hume had one objection or another to them, and the spot that finally satisfied him was a small wooded island flanked by others of larger size, and so placed that if they were menaced from any side there would be an opening for escape in the opposite direction. The channel into which they steered was so narrow that the branches of the trees joined overhead, and when they tied up, the Okapi was completely hidden. Before forcing their way into the leafy tunnel, they had taken down the awning, but now, after having broken away many branches, they refixed the canvas roof and drew the mosquito-curtains round, after which they sought out and killed all the insect pests that remained within the nets. There was no danger in showing a light, and accordingly the lantern was hung amidships, the spirit-lamp lit, to prepare a nourishing and at the same time "filling" soup. They made a hearty meal, got into warmer clothing, oiled the rifle-barrels, arranged their rugs, and prepared for the night, which came on them with a rush, heralded by the noise of birds seeking their accustomed roosting-places. Such an uproar the boys had not before heard. It seemed as if the Zoological Gardens had emptied its noisiest inhabitants. Parrots flew across the river, every one talking at the top of its voice, while colonies of ibis croaked out the news of the day in gruff, discordant notes; cranes flying laboriously, with long legs trailing, emitted their deep "honks;" frogs lifted up their voices from out the reeds, and at intervals came the booming cry of the shovel-beaked bittern, and the harsh, baboon-like bark of the green-crested toucan. The noise of the home-going of the winged multitudes ceased as the night drew its black mantle over the river.

Out of the spell of silence there grew presently other voices, soft whisperings, deep sighings; mysterious sounds telling of things stealthy and oppressed by the stillness; abrupt splashings that startled by their suddenness: grunts, rumblings, and the roar of bull crocodiles. It must not, however, be supposed that there was a continuous succession of sounds. Each noise had its own place, and there would be often long intervals between one sound and another.

Venning, who had the first watch, found this out. He would hear a startling splash, followed by a snort and the snap of jaws; then all would be quiet for several minutes, when, from another direction, would come perhaps a heavy sigh; then another interval of silence, again a splash, and so on until the impression grew on him that the beasts and reptiles who made the noises were working slowly towards him in a circle.

It was his first night on guard in the wilderness, and he felt the uneasiness of the hunter who discovers how limited are his senses compared with those of the wild creatures about him. Man, himself the most secret, the most cunning, the most deadly, and, if truth must be told, the most bloodthirsty, for he kills too often for the love of killing, is the most helpless in the dark. His sense of hearing, of sight, and of smell, fail him—thanks to a wise provision of Nature in the interests of her other children—for if man had the eyes of a cat, the nose of a wolf, and the hearing of a deer, he would have cleared the earth of its creatures, who would have had no rest night or day.

All the time, too, the river talked, as it rolled its great flood along, sending up a soft volume of song from the innumerable sounds produced as it washed along the islands and foamed against the rocks of the shores. Presently, down the narrow channel, there came a rush of water which rocked the boat, and next Venning heard close at hand a strange noise, which he took to be made by a large animal cropping at the river-grass. He looked about for a weapon, and, picking up the long boat-hook, lashed his hunting-knife to the iron hook at the top, converting it into a lance. He had read of hippos swamping boats by seizing the narrow bows or keel in their vast jaws, and he wished to be prepared for a possible attack. Presently the boat again rocked as another animal took to the water, then the new-comer dislodged the other with a snap of the jaws, and the first, with a complaining grunt, surged down the channel. Venning could see nothing in the inky blackness, but he knew the beast had seen the Okapi from the short note of alarm it sounded. Immediately the alarm was repeated. Snorts and splashes arose from all sides. Some great beast who had been standing unnoticed within a few yards of the boat, crashed through the bushes into the water with an uproar that woke the sleepers.

"What is it?" cried Compton.

Mr. Hume made a dart for his rifle.

The Okapi rocked and heaved, was lifted at the bows to fall back with a splash.

"Hippo," gasped Venning, making a drive with his weapon through the mosquito curtains. "Got him!—no!—missed!"

"What's that you've got there, Venning?"

"Sort of harpoon."

"By gum!" said Mr. Hume, taking the weapon, "I'm glad you missed the beggar. I would not give much for our chances if he turned crusty in this place."

The hippo reappeared aft with a snort, and, much to their relief, continued down the channel into the wider waters.

"Find the watch pleasant?" asked Compton, sleepily, as Mr. Hume turned in.

"Awfully cheerful," said Venning, earnestly; "but I'm not selfish, and you can take your turn at it on the tick of the hour."

Compton dived for his rugs, and Venning once more returned to his duties with his harpoon over his knees, and a string of winged visitors entering joyously by the hole he had made in the curtain. He pinned his handkerchief over the rent to stop further free entrance, then made war on those which had entered—an amusement which carried him well into the fourth and last hour of the first watch. Then he sat up to listen for the old sounds—the groans and the snorts—but they had ceased. A mist, like a wet blanket, had settled down over the Okapi, over the islands and the river; and, though any sounds made on the water were startlingly distinct, confined as the sound-waves were by the mist, the creatures had evidently gone to sleep. There was, however, one visitor faithful to him. The light of the lantern, which showed the rolling wreaths of the mist, just reached the water, and in the reflection he saw two greenish points. After long looking, he made out that these were the eyes of a crocodile, whose body was half in and half out of the water, the tail end of him being anchored on the little island. At eleven o'clock he roused Compton by dragging at his ankle.

Compton sat up, rubbed his eyes, and drew his rug over his shoulders.

"What's the countersign, comrade?" he asked, with a yawn.

"Countersign?"

"Yes; when the watch is relieved he has to say something or other, as a guide to the new man."

"Oh, I see. Well, let me introduce you to the companion of your watch. See those green points out there?"

"Yes—like dull glass."

"That's your new chum. He's been there an hour without moving, and it's no good trying to stare him down."

"What is it?"

"Crocodile. Good night. Wish you joy;" and Venning crept under his waterproof sheet with a sigh of relief.

Neither of the two boys smoked, taking the advice of Mr. Hume, who persuaded them that tobacco acted as a poison when used too early, and spoiled good hunting. It lowered the action of the heart, affected the hearing and the sense of smell. In place of a pipe, therefore, Compton found comfort in chewing, not tobacco, but a meat lozenge. As he chewed he watched the two little dull green spots, and the crocodile watched him with the deadly patience that so often brings grist to the mill, or, rather, food to his jaws.

It was not a pleasant companionship, and Compton, after a long attempt to stare the reptile down, turned his back to it and watched the efforts of several large moths to get at the light through the mosquito curtains. He could not so much see them as hear them, from the way they bumped into the net, and the little soft splash they made as they dropped into the water. By-and-by there came another sound, made by some large fish, who had also been attracted by the light, and then by the fat moths.

The news that these were good eating quickly spread under water, and presently there was quite a gathering about the boat. Then Compton turned to look at his unwelcome watcher. He was still at his post, his eyes still fixed in an unwinking stare, but seemingly brighter than before. Yes, he was evidently nearer. He was moving! Compton picked up the boat-hook with its dagger-ended spear, and prepared for the attack. Slowly, almost without a ripple, the reptile slithered into the water; then came a rush, a snap of jaws, a swirl of waters, and something heavy and wet came right through the mosquito nets, landing in the well of the boat with a tremendous whack.

"Look out," yelled Compton; "keep out of his reach."

"What the dickens is it now?" roared Mr. Hume, as a series of resounding thwacks arose out of the well.

Compton drove his harpoon into the well, and held on like grim death, as the impaled thing lashed out to free itself.

"A crocodile!" he shouted. "I can't hold him down much longer."

"Crocodile be blowed!" shouted Mr. Hume, unhooking the lantern and directing its light into the well. "It's a fish."

"But," said Compton, "I saw the crocodile. It came straight for the boat. Venning saw it too."

"It was over there," said Venning, peering into the dark.

"Then the fish must have jumped aboard to escape the crocodile. Anyway, we can have fish-steak for breakfast," and Mr. Hume quieted the fish with a blow on the head.

"I made sure it was the crocodile," said Compton, in an aggrieved tone. "Look at the hole in the curtains; there'll be tons of skeeters aboard."

"You turn in and I'll smoke," said the hunter, who smoked enough for three; and, with his pipe filled and lit, he took up the watch.

Once more the little party settled down to pass the night, and this time there was no disturbance until, in the chill of the early morning, the sleepers were awakened to get in the awning, to make all shipshape aboard, and to prepare breakfast. The fish was not handsome-looking, but he cut up into really good steaks, which were grilled on a gridiron fitted over the stove, and, with hot coffee and a biscuit apiece, they ate a meal which made them proof against the depressing surroundings.

Both Compton and Venning, as soon as there was light enough, took a careful look around for the crocodile; but though that wily brute was probably near, he did not show himself. They could, however, see the track made by the hippo when he had broken through into the water, and Mr. Hume, stepping ashore, went up this track to spy around. He returned with the report that the natives were signaling from village to village by columns of smoke sent up from fires fed with damp wood to make a heavy smoke.

"They will be keeping a sharp look-out, and we had better remain here."

"It seems to me," said Compton, "that we have been here already a week."

"Quite that," said Venning.

"The time has seemed long because you have been receiving new impressions."

"I thought it was a fish I received," murmured Compton.

"Each impression," continued the hunter, "is a sort of milestone in your memory, so that an hour crowded with several of these milestones will appear to be longer than a whole blank day. You will get used to such interrupted nights—that is, if our journey does not end here."

"Oh, come, sir, we have dodged them beautifully."

"The feeling of security is the beginning of disaster," said Mr. Hume, oracularly. "The rule of the bush is to keep your eyes skinned."

"What is the order of the day, then?"

"The order of the day is to watch and wait. Venning will crawl on to the little island on our right and watch the south hank. You, Compton, will take the head of the large island on our left, and I will watch from the other end. If any of us see danger, we will give the whistle of the sand-piper. Each will take water and food, and each, of course, will keep himself hid."

"We take our guns, of course?"

"Best not. A gunshot would bring a host down upon us. Don't be discouraged," continued the hunter, as he saw the boys' faces drop. "We have got the advantage of position, and we've got grit—eh?"

He nodded cheerfully, and they smiled back, and then each crept out to his allotted post. The first part of the watch was by no means bad—so the boys decided when they had settled down, Venning under a bush palm and Compton behind a log. There was a pleasant freshness in the air; and as the broad river uncoiled under the mist, it disclosed fresh beauties, till the lifting veil revealed the wooded heights and the tall columns of smoke, grey against the dark of the woods and black against the indigo blue of the sky. They marked where the hippos stood with their bulky heads to the sun, and saw the crocodiles on the sands of other islands lying motionless with distended jaws. And then the birds came to the hunting. Strings of dark ibis, of duck, and storks; small kingfishers all bejeweled, and greater kingfishers in black and white. The air was full of bird- calls, of the musical ripple of waters, of the hum of the forest moved by the morning wind.

By-and-by, however, the sun got to work in earnest, and the pleasure went out of the watching as the air grew hot and steamy. The sand- flies and the mosquitoes found them out, and blessed the day that brought two tender white boys into their very midst. They gathered to the feast in clouds, but these boys were not there for the fun of the thing. They drew gossamer veils over the brims of their felt hats, and gathered them in about their necks. They pulled their soft high boots up to their knees and secured them there; and, moreover, they smeared an abomination of grease and eucalyptus oil over their hands. The mosquitoes set up a shrill trumpeting that could be heard ten paces away, and held a mass meeting to protest; whereupon the father of all the dragon-flies, a magnificent warrior in a steel- blue armour, saw that a conspiracy was afoot, and swept into the midst with a whirr and a snap, a turn here and a flash there, that scattered the host in a twinkling of a gnat's eye.

The islands shimmered in the glare as if they were afloat; the hippos took to the water, and a deep and drowsy silence fell upon the great river. But man, ever restless, was astir, and through the stillness there was borne to the three a soft continuous humming, that merged quietly into the short, clamorous throbs of an engine at work under pressure.

The launch was afloat again! Mr. Hume caught the trail of the smoke first, and Compton next. They marked the course under the north bank right up to a bend about six miles off, and they judged that the launch had stopped there, as the smoke went up in a straight thin column. Then Venning saw a canoe dart out from the south bank, followed by two others from different points. The sun struck like fire on gun-barrel and spear-head, and gleamed on the wet paddles. He moistened his parched lips with a taste of water from his filter- bottle, and gave the call. The answer came, and he drew his friends to him with a low whistling. As they came crouching, he pointed upriver.

"Three canoes put out. Two are hidden behind that outside island, and there is the other creeping round the end."

"Oh ay," said Mr. Hume. "If they're after us, they will have placed outlooks in the tallest trees;" and with his glass he swept the forest.

"They could not see us at that distance."

"But they could see our boat as soon as we appeared in open water.
We'll stay where we are."

"Then we shall need our guns."

"It is not our guns that will save us, my lad, but strategy. Any one could fire off a rifle, but it takes nerve to keep cool in readiness to do the right thing at the right time."

"But," said Compton, obstinately, "we don't want to be caught undefended."

"Leave this matter with me," said the hunter, sternly. "See that crocodile asleep on that stretch of sand? He's our best protector. Why? Because he is asleep. The natives, seeing him, would think we were not near. We will, however, keep watch together."

They returned to the boat, made all ready for an instant departure, in case they were discovered, then settled down to wait and watch once more. Gradually the strain wore off, the old silence fell upon the scene, and their eyes grew heavy from sheer monotony. The night had seemed long, bat the day was worse.

Then the boys rubbed their eyes and lifted their heads. Where there had been a bare stretch of water white under the sun between two islands a quarter of a mile off, there appeared a long canoe, with a tall spearman standing in the bows, and a full crew behind.

The man in the bows looked straight down the channel to their lair, where in the narrow cut the Okapi lay hidden behind a screen of leaves. Then he moved his hand to the right, and the canoe, silently, without a ripple almost, skirted the island on that side, into whose reedy sides the men darted their glances. Again the hand was moved, and the long boat crept across to the island on the left, which was swept by the sharp suspicious eyes of the natives. Again the bowman directed his gaze into the narrow opening, and this time he looked long. There was one small island to pass, and if the canoe kept on the north side, it would have to come right into the hiding- place; if it kept to the south, it would reappear at the end of the passage by which the Okapi had entered.

In either case, the danger of discovery seemed certain. The three pairs of eyes from behind the tall grass were glued to the man's face. They saw him start, then move his hand to the left, and as the canoe went stealthily out of their view round the south side, they heard the sullen plunge made by a crocodile as, disturbed from his sleep, he took to the waters.

Then the three crept back to the boat. "Pull her through the screen," whispered the hunter, as he caught up his rifle, "but make no noise;" and he took up another position ashore, this time facing the other end of the channel.

With great caution the boys coaxed the Okapi through the trailing branches, so that she would be hidden from view if the natives looked up the channel. Then they waited and waited for ages before the hunter showed himself.

"Well?" they asked in a whisper.

"They have passed on."

"And?" they said, watching his face.

"I don't quite like it. They may have no suspicions, but I think they have; for one man pointed up in this direction."

"If they suspected anything they would have stopped surely."

"Perhaps not. The native doesn't like the look of a trap, and it maybe that they passed on with the intention of returning at night. Or they may have gone for the other boats." Mr. Hume stood up to glance shorewards.

"Would it not be better to move on?" said Venning.

"If we could be sure that we should not be seen from the land, that would be the move." He stroked his beard. "I guess we'll move," he said, "just about dusk, for I'm pretty sure in my mind that they did take particular notice of this channel, and my policy is always to listen to your instincts."

"Instincts," muttered Compton; "call them nerves."

Mr. Hume laughed. "About the time you were born, Dick, I was playing a lone hand in Lo-Ben's country as trader and hunter, when a loss of nerve would have meant loss of life. See! So just leave this to me, and shove her along."

Compton grinned back at the hunter, and tugged at his oar, for the levers clanked too loud for this work. They crept along to another berth a little way off, and tied up in the shadow of the bank; and they had scarcely settled themselves when they heard again the beat of engines. The launch was returning, and was returning in answer to a signal that the game had been found! A pungent smell of smoke suddenly reached them, and, standing up, they saw over the reeds that a fire had been made on one of the neighbouring islands.

That was the signal!

Glancing shorewards they saw that more canoes were putting off—dark smudges on the water, but growing clearer as the crews dashed the paddles. But there were enemies even nearer. As they pulled the Okapi closer into the shadows a boat swept into view, and, evidently obeying directions given from the island where the fire was, took up a position overlooking the first hiding-place of the Okapi. All the time the launch drew nearer, racing evidently to take advantage of the brief spell of light before the dark, and the canoes raced from the shore to take part in the great man-hunt. As they drew near, the fleet scattered, some going up-stream, others down, and the remainder dashing straight on in among the islands.

As they scattered to take up their positions, there came a report from the launch's gun.

It was the signal for the drive to begin, and as the echo rolled away, a deep silence followed the previous uproar. The savage look- out men, standing erect in the sharp bows of the long canoes, motioned to the paddlemen to stop, and all heads were turned to the wind to catch any sound in case the hunted should attempt to move away. Fierce eyes were directed towards one spot, where the fire blazed on the island over against the place where the Okapi had laid up.

Not a whisper had come from the three in the boat. After they had first seen the signal smoke, which told them so plainly that Mr. Hume's suspicions were justified, they had crouched low, watching every move that was visible to them.

A canoe rounded their hiding-place and crept stealthily by towards the narrow passage with its screen of bushes, every man fixing his gaze directly ahead, the broad nostrils quivering, and spears grasped in the hands that were not busy with the paddles.

Then through the silence there came the sharp yap of a dog who has struck the scent, and next the loud, excited bark. Too cautious to land on the suspected island themselves, some of the canoe-men had drawn near from the north side and thrown a cur on the island to find the white men in their supposed hiding. The dog had, of course, struck the spoor and found the dark hiding, empty, but suspicious- looking. In his fear he gave tongue. The gun from the launch fired, a yell rose from every side, and all the canoes near dashed forward.

Mr. Hume shoved out, and the Okapi slipped up-stream undetected under the uproar, darting from one island to another, and keeping as near the banks as possible. They were doing splendidly! The enemy was behind; it seemed that they must reap the advantage of their caution and resourcefulness, when, without any intimation of danger, they came right upon a canoe lying in mid-channel between two of the innumerable islands.

"Back-water!" cried Mr. Hume, at once.

The boys obeyed without, of course, any knowledge of the course, and the Okapi slackened down.

"Well met, my friends," came a voice they knew; and the two looked over their shoulders.

"Dished, after all!" muttered Compton, bitterly; then he snatched up his rifle.

"Hassan thought you would come along this way," went on the junior officer—for it was he; "but I doubted, and yet here you are."

"The praise be to Allah," remarked Hassan, piously, as he glanced along his rifle.

The Okapi had lost the little way she was making, and began to move with the current away from the canoe. Mr. Hume suddenly spoke for the first time since his order.

"Turn that canoe round!" he roared; and his Express leapt to his shoulder. The boys followed suit.

The paddle-men promptly ducked their heads, and one of them called out in his lingo that this was the slayer of crocodiles and of the great bull.

"But, my friend——" began the Belgian, who now, together with Hassan and several Arabs in the stern of the canoe, came under the levelled barrels.

"Oblige me," said the hunter. "Compton, cover that Arab Hassan with your rifle, and Venning, take the man to the right. If they move their weapons, shoot."

Hassan snarled and turned a furious face to the Belgian. "This is your folly!" he hissed. "Why didn't you fire at once?"

Mr. Hume repeated his orders in the native tongue, and the cowed men, using their paddles, turned the long canoe round.

"Now, keep straight on in silence, till I tell you to stop. Follow them"—this to the boys, who immediately picked up their sculls.

The Belgian glanced back. "Come," he said, "this is not amiable.
See, we could, had we liked, have caught you in an ambush."

"And so your friend Hassan advised you, eh?" replied Mr. Hume; "but you thought we would surrender at discretion. You see, you were mistaken. Now just listen to me. Do not look back again, or this rifle may go off. Out with the sculls, lads."

Hassan growled out curses at this complete turning of the tables upon him, but the natives bent to their paddles. They bad no wish to be shot down in the cause of the slave-hunter, however ready they would have been to have fallen on the Englishmen if the advantage had been with them.

The darkness was coming on fast as the strange procession passed up the channel to thread the intricate passages among the clustering islands. In a few minutes the canoe would be almost hidden from sight; but the very last thing Mr. Hume wanted was to keep company.

"Baleka!" he cried. "Quicker! I have your heads in one line. One bullet would stretch you all dead. Quicker!" he roared.

The broad paddles flashed, the water churned fiercely, and the long canoe shot off into the dusk; and as it sped on the hunter pulled the wheel over, altering the course of the Okapi, and taking it towards the open water between the islands and the south bank.

"By Jove! you did that splendidly," said Compton. "I thought it was all over."

Venning laughed that little nervous laugh of his. "I wonder why they gave in like that?"

"We had the drop on then," said Mr. Hume, grimly; "and we knew our own minds. Now, then! up with the sail, and, dark or not, we must get on."

Very smartly and silently the boys hoisted the sail, and as the Okapi beat up they heard a great uproar from the left. Apparently Hassan was using violent language to the Belgian officer for not having ambushed the "dogs of Englishmen." Then several rifle-shots were fired from the canoe, and answered from the people down-stream, who were still searching for their prey. But the Okapi slipped on, making a musical ripple under her bows, until she beat up under the great wall of woods on the south bank, when she tacked away into the gathering darkness, feeling for the wind. Down-river was the glare of fires at different spots, where the men had landed from the different canoes; but there was no light ahead through the whole vast width of the river, and they dare not even rig up their own lamp to get what little guidance it could give. The wind was fitful, and the direct progress was slow, so that when the glow went out of the sky they were still within hearing of the shouting. Indeed, it seemed that the shouting gained on them, as if the men in Hassan's boat were keeping their place in the renewed pursuit, and directing other crews as to the line they should take.

Then the sail napped idly against the mast as the wind died down, and as they unstepped the mast before depending on the screw, a fire sprang out right ahead, sending up a tall column of flame that flung its reflection far across the waters.

"We must make out into the islands again," said Mr. Hume; but, as the boat pointed on the new course, an answering flame sprang up, and then another and another at brief intervals, until from the fire on the bank there was a semicircle of flame from island to island barring their advance.

"There must be an army out," muttered Venning.

"It is one canoe, but most likely Hassan's, firing the dried reeds as they pass from island to island."

"Then the flames will die out soon."

"Yes, they will die down; but in the mean time other canoes will come up, and if there are men on the shore waiting, they will see us outlined against the reflection."

Even as he finished there came a shrill cry from the shore, followed by the wild beat of the war-drum, and next by the sound of paddling.

"Shall we make a bolt for it?" asked Compton.

"Not yet," said the hunter; and he brought the Okapi stem on for the deep shadows under the bank.

The oars moved softly, covered by the noise of the paddling, and the Okapi slipped out of the reflection into the darkness, while the canoes dashed straight on, passing about one hundred yards behind her stem.

"Easy now," whispered Mr. Hume, "and keep quite still."

The oars were drawn in as the Okapi, caught in a current, was borne right into the bank at a spot where the trees came down to the brink. Mr. Hume caught a branch, and the stern swung round. Before them, about a quarter of a mile off perhaps, was the great fire they had first seen, still fed by natives, whose dark figures stood out and disappeared as they moved about. Out on the river they could hear the noise of paddles, and of men calling to each other.

Near them on the bank something moved, and above the swishing of the current they heard the low whine of an animal.

Mr. Hume pricked his ears at the sound, and crept into the well, where the boys sat anxiously watching.

"Put on your coats," he muttered.

Again there came the whine, then the sound of an animal scrambling, and next the patter of feet.

"A dog," whispered Venning.

"I advise keeping on," said Compton.

"And I," replied Mr. Hume, "advise that we have something to eat.
Will you serve us, Venning?"

They ate hungrily, for through the day they had been too much excited to think of food. And as they feasted their eyes were on the move, and their ears on the stretch. Their manoeuvre had apparently succeeded, for the canoes were all beating up towards the fires under the belief that the Okapi had kept on, and there was no suspicious movement by the people on the shore. So they remained where they were, keeping themselves in position by holding on to the branches. To the boys it was a weird scene, with the blood-red glow on the waters and the sense of vastness and of wildness. They were not afraid, but they could not help a feeling of weariness, and they edged nearer the hunter for the comfort of his presence. For a long time they watched, sitting silent; and by-and-by the fires on the islands died down one by one, until only the flare on the bank remained as a beacon to those on the river. Then the sound of paddling drew near again.

Again the whine came from behind the screen of trees, and there was a rustling among the branches.

Taking a bit of the dried meat he had been eating, Mr. Hume tossed it through the leaves. There came a sniff, a snap of the jaws, and a whimper. The hunter shifted his rifle till it pointed through the boughs.

"Peace," said a low voice. "It is Muata and his beast. They hunt me yet."

"Us also, O chief!"

The canoes came rushing in. Already some of the crews had landed near the fire; but others were coming down-stream, hugging the banks for safety, or, maybe, having a last look for the Englishmen.

"It is Muata!" cried Venning, in a joyous whisper. "Muata and his jackal. What luck!"

"S-sh!"

A canoe went by some distance out, after it another, and as they swept into the darkness, a third announced its presence, coming more slowly and closer in. While it was nearly opposite the hiding the howl of the jackal rose from out the bush, wringing a startled exclamation from the two boys by its suddenness.

"What devil's noise is that?" sang out a voice they recognized as that of the Belgian officer.

A sharp order was given, the paddles ceased, and the canoe, looming long and black on the water, drifted towards the Okapi.

"I have heard that cry before," said a rasping voice. "Be ready with your weapons. Allah the merciful may yet deliver those we seek."

"What would they be doing here inshore?" asked the Belgian.

"They would be here because it is here they would not expect us to search. I think I see something gleam."

In the water by the shore there was a faint splash, and again the jackal whined.

Mr. Hume pressed his hand on Compton's shoulder, forcing him into the well; and he did the same by Venning.

"Surely," said the Belgian, "it is something. Shall we call in the other canoes, and guard the place till daylight?"

"I will have them now," said Hassan, with fury.

"They will not look on another sun;" and he gave the order to his men to kill when they closed in. "It is they who let free the thief of the forest—the dog Muata."

"You lie, O woman stealer; Muata freed himself;" and out of the water, out of the blackness, came the voice, without warning, "Muata is here, by your side, man-thief."

The Arab fired, and the flash from his discharged rifle flamed into the water, into which he peered with features convulsed.

"Kill him!" he yelled.

"Muata!" cried the paddlers. "Haw! To the shore, to the shore, or we perish! The water-wolf, he!"

"Yavuma!" cried the voice from the water; and the canoe heeled over as the chief rose under the sharp bow. "Yavuma!"—he wrenched a paddle from one of the men and hurled it at the Arab. The crank craft rolled as some of the excited men in the stem tried to use their spears. "Yavuma!"—this time with a triumphant whoop, and the canoe turned over!

With a couple of powerful strokes the swimmer had his hand on the
Okapi.

"O great one," he cried, "Muata is come to work and to watch—to be your shield and your spear."

Mr. Hume reached out a strong hand and pulled the chief on board.

Muata gave a low cry, and with a frightened whimper the jackal shot out from the bank and lighted on the deck. Then the Okapi slid out silently into the river.

"By Jenkins!" gasped Venning.

"It beats all," laughed Compton. "Well done, Muata."

As the capsized crew struggled to the shore they yelled abuse and threats, but their power for mischief had gone with the loss of their weapons. Some of them went off down the bank shouting for the canoes that had gone on, and others made their way to the fire; but Mr. Hume and Muata took a spell at the levers, heedless of the noise made, and under their powerful arms the boat was soon far out in the waste of waters—safe, at any rate, for that night.