Gerard, in his hiding-place, could hear the muffled hum of conversation, though he could not distinguish the words. Then he heard the rustle of the bushes drawing nearer and nearer above his head. To keep his balance he was obliged to hold on to a bough with one hand, while the other held his rifle, not even above water. He himself was submerged to the chin; fortunately the weather was hot, and his involuntary bath, so far, was not in itself unpleasant.
A sound over his head caused him to look upward—then start back as far as he could go. Something shot down from above, and there passed within a few inches of Gerard’s horrified eyes the broad blade of a great stabbing assegai. It was immediately withdrawn, then down it came again, this time narrowly failing to transfix the hand by which he supported himself on the bough. The blood ran chill within his veins, as he saw what had happened. The Igazipuza had spliced a short-handled broad-bladed assegai to a pole, and with this improvised lance were going along the bank prodding down into every likely looking place which they could not otherwise reach.
He flattened himself as far back as he could against the perpendicular bank, and again the murderous blade came stabbing down, grazing his shoulder this time. Heavens! he could get no further back. The next thrust would transfix him. The perspiration stood in cold beads upon his forehead, and his brain seemed to be whirling round as again and again he watched the deadly spear descend. Then hope returned. He seemed far enough in under the bank to be just outside any thrust they could make from above. They appeared unable to get his angle. Surely they would decide that he was not there, and move on.
And this was in fact what happened, and Gerard began to breathe freely again. He need not have though.
There was silence for a few minutes. Had they gone on—given up the search? It almost seemed like it. And then just as hope was beginning to burn once more, there travelled to his ears a sound which quenched it utterly.
He heard a splash, as of somebody entering the water, nearly a hundred yards up the stream—a guarded, would-be noiseless sort of splash—then another and another, and the purport thereof was plain. His pursuers had adopted another plan. They intended to search along beneath the bank in person.
Silently, and with the most intense caution, Gerard worked himself into such a position that he could watch this new move. By the ripples on the water, by the shaking of the bushes, he could see they were drawing nearer and nearer. Then the dark forms of three warriors came full into view as, half swimming, half wading, they passed an exposed point. And now they were barely sixty yards off.
If only it was dark—dusk even! But the day had only just begun. His enemies had the whole of it before them. In despair he looked around. Was there no escape? No—none.
Yet in the blackest moment of dead despair there leapt forth hope, a hope so wild, extravagant, that Gerard was almost unnerved by the extravagance of it. The river-bank, as we have said, was perpendicular, and the soil of the nature of clay, and the action of the water had worn along the base of this a number of holes, all now below the surface, for the river was a trifle above its normal level. All? We are wrong. All—save one.
In the high bank immediately behind his head, some few inches long and barely an inch above the surface of the water, was an aperture, hardly in fact distinguishable. But Gerard, his quickness of resource sharpened by his imminent peril, saw it, saw in it a possible means of escape.