The man with the beard seemed very agitated. He gesticulated wildly, and, holding his rifle in his left hand, pointed down-stream with his right. He was by no means easy to understand, since his pronunciation of English was faulty, and he never troubled to take his cigarette from between his lips.
"Get back!" he cried. "Go back again! You have no business here."
"Why not?" asked Crouch.
"Because this river is mine."
"By what right?"
"By right of conquest. I refuse to allow you to land."
The canoe was now only a few yards from the bank. The second man--the small man with the yellow face--turned and ran back into the stockade, evidently to fetch his rifle.
"I'm afraid," said Crouch, "with your permission or without, we intend to come ashore."
Again the butt of the man's rifle flew to his shoulder.
"Another yard," said he, "and I shoot you dead."