“Why, they have a railway here!” exclaimed Prank. “Pshaw! this isn’t wild a bit.”
“It’s the jumping-off place of civilization,” said Mr. Thorne. “The railway merely runs across to Rockstone, a settlement on the Essequibo River.”
Rapidly the motley crowd of passengers disembarked, Mr. Thome’s two Indians, reënforced by five others who appeared to spring by magic from nowhere, shouldered the party’s baggage, and Mr. Thorne led the way to a large dug-out canoe which was moored near the dock.
“We’ll spend the night across the river,” he explained, as the Indians piled their loads in the “coorial” and the boys and their companions seated themselves. “There is a hotel here,” he continued, “but it’s a rotten hole and my Boviander captain has a nice place where we can be far more comfortable.”
Pushing off from shore, the Indians grasped their paddles and with swift, powerful strokes drove the craft diagonally across the river, swung it deftly into a small creek, and ran its bow on to a mud bank from which a notched log led up to the higher land.
Standing at the head of the improvised steps was a powerfully built, yellow man with grizzled curly hair, a heavy mustache and a pair of keen gray eyes.
“Howdy!” he greeted them with a pleasant smile, “I’se please to see you retarn, Chief.”
Mr. Thorne shook his hand warmly. “Glad you were here, Colcord,” he exclaimed. “These are the gentlemen and the boys that are going up river with me.” Then, turning to the others, “This is Captain Colcord, my boat captain,” he announced. “And there’s none better in the colony.”
The Boviander flushed under his dark skin and then, shaking hands with each member of the party in turn, led the way along a narrow path between the trees.
“You’ll have to tell Colcord something of our plans,” said Mr. Thorne, speaking to Mr. Pauling in subdued tones. “He’s perfectly dependable and can keep a secret, but we can’t accomplish much unless he knows what we want to do.”