They remained by the body of the dog no longer than a few seconds, and after that they pushed on upon their way, still following the course of the tunnel, or "run." At length, when least they expected it, they found themselves at the water's edge, at the place where the rapids were inordinately swift.
The water foamed and swirled upon its way, lashing the banks, forming little whirlpools in mid-stream, and bounding in waves over the trunks of trees which had fallen into the river.
"Sit down," said Crouch. "There's no hurry. We may as well talk matters out."
Max looked at his companion. Now that they were in the sunlight, he was able to see Crouch's face. He was alarmed to notice that the little captain looked haggard and drawn. His lips were pressed together, as though he were in pain, and his only serviceable eye was puckered and screwed up. Seeing Max's anxiety, he did his best to smile.
"The Bull's Eye 's beginning to work," said he.
"How do you mean?" asked Max.
"After a bit it begins to smart. It smarts for about three days, and then the blamed thing's healed. Sit down, my boy. This man Cæsar annoys me. I want to think it out."
They seated themselves at the river bank, and Crouch kept an ear towards the jungle, in order to be warned if any one should approach.
"What about the canoe?" asked Max.
"It's up-stream," said the other, with a nod of the head. "If we work our way along the bank, we can't miss it. To tell you the truth, I want a rest; I feel queer. And, besides, I want to think."