“Ned,” I gasped out, “the dogs have stopped giving tongue.”
My coxswain hurriedly glanced over his shoulder, but did not relax his pace for a moment.
“The same thing struck me,” he said, “but it would be impossible for them to lose the scent here. We mustn’t lose a moment. If you can’t spurt a bit longer, sir, you must take a good firm grip of my arm, for your weight would be a mere trifle to me.”
I assured Ned, with many thanks for his offers of assistance, that I was quite capable of keeping up the pace as far as to the forest, and, indeed, it was now not fifty yards distant. Mr. Triggs gave it as his opinion that for some unforeseen reason the pursuit had slackened.
The sudden silence of the dogs was certainly remarkable, but that they had lost the scent seemed a perfect impossibility.
The next moment we had bounded into the forest, which was composed of trees of some considerable age, most of which were closely united by hanging and trailing festoons of creepers, whilst beneath their umbrageous branches grew scattered underwood and young saplings.
Our sudden advent startled some monkeys that were skylarking about among the larger trees on the outskirts of the jungle, and they fled precipitately, shrieking with alarm.
“Tiresome little beasts,” cried Ned angrily; “the shindy they kick up is quite enough to draw attention to our whereabouts.”
“We can halt for a moment, I think,” said Mr. Triggs breathlessly, mopping his head at the same time with a large red pocket-handkerchief, which the pirates had had the complaisance to leave in his possession.
“Certainly. I wants to have a bit of a sky round,” replied Ned; “and I reckon we’re all a bit gone in the bellows,” and so saying he crept stealthily to the boundary of the forest, and, dropping upon his knees, gazed and listened intently.