Crouch turned to Harden.
"I've a mind to look into this," said he.
"I, too," said the other.
"He won't take us," said Max.
"I'll make him," said Crouch. "For the present, I'm going to sleep. The boys will stick to the canoes. We must get back to the river to-morrow afternoon. Good-night."
So saying, he curled himself up like a hedgehog, and, resting his head upon his folded arms, immediately fell asleep.
It was already three months since they had left Banana Point at the mouth of the Congo. They had journeyed to the foot of the rapids by steamboat, and thence had carried their canoes across several miles of country. They had enjoyed a good deal of mixed shooting in the lower valley, and then they had said good-bye to the few trading stations, or factories, which lay scattered at wide intervals upon the banks of the great river, and which were the last links that bound them to such civilization as the wilds of Africa could show. Max had already gained much experience of life in the wilds of tropical Africa. This was not the first time that he had found himself obliged to sleep upon the ground, without pillow or blankets, or that which was still more necessary--a mosquito-net.
When he opened his eyes it was daylight, and the first thing that he beheld was Captain Crouch, seated cross-legged at the fireside, with his pipe between his teeth. His one eye was fixed in the glowing embers. He appeared to be deep in thought, for his face was all screwed up, and he never moved. Thin wreaths of smoke came from the bowl of his pipe, and the hut reeked of his foul tobacco. Suddenly he snatched the pipe from his lips, and banged the bowl so viciously upon the heel of his boot that he broke it in twain. "I have it!" he cried. "I've got it!"
Max asked what was the matter.
"I've got an idea," said Crouch. "I'll make this fellow take us to the Hidden River, whether he wants to or not. They are frightened of these Fire-gods, are they! By Christopher, I'll make them more frightened of me, or my name was never Crouch!"