Max asked him what was on his mind.
"Cæsar," said he. "I should like to know how the man managed to get here." Then he went on, thinking aloud, as was his custom. "There may be a path through the jungle; but I doubt if even then he would have been able to come this distance on foot. And yet his canoe never passed Hippo Pool, or we should have seen it--that's sure enough." Then, on a sudden, he slapped his knee. "By Christopher," he cried, "I have it! I remember!"
"You remember what?" asked Max.
"About half-way between the Pool and Makanda I remember seeing the entrance of a little back-water, on the left bank of the river. That back-water probably rejoins the river somewhere about here. It's all as plain as a pikestaff. He has come north by the back-water, which accounts for us not having seen him pass through Hippo Pool. The end of that back-water is either between here and the place where we left the canoe, or else farther down-stream. Come," said Crouch, "we'll get the better of this rascal. Perhaps, for once, Fortune will play into our hands."
He struggled to his feet, but immediately turned pale, and was obliged to support himself against the trunk of a tree.
"I feel mighty dizzy," he said. "I've lost a deal of blood."
"You had better stay here," said Max; "I'll work along the bank until I find the canoe, and then come back to you. I don't like leaving you, but there's nothing else to be done. Perhaps the canoe is not far away."
"It's farther than you think," said Crouch; "that tunnel took us almost due north. Besides, I can tell by the water. The rapids are pretty strong; we can't be far from the ravine."
"Will we be able to paddle against it, do you think?" asked Max.
Crouch looked at the river.