"Yes," said he. "My arms are all right, though I've gone wrong in the leg. You get off, and come back here as quickly as you can. If you see Cæsar, shoot."
At that Max set off alone. He soon found it impossible to make any progress on the actual bank of the river, since here, by reason of the moisture that was in the ground, the vegetation was so dense and tangled that a weasel would have found some difficulty in making any headway. He soon found, however, that by moving about thirty yards from the river bank, he could make his way southward with tolerable ease. From time to time he forced his way to the river's edge, and looked both up-stream and down, to note if he could see any sign of the canoe.
The sun was in the mid-heavens, and the heat intense. The jungle was alive with sounds. The evening before there had been a heavy shower of rain, and now the vapour rose like steam, and the moisture dropped from the trees. To his left he could hear the roar of the rapids as the river plunged upon its way, and this served to guide him, making it possible for him to hold his course parallel to the river bank. He was followed by a swarm of insects that droned and buzzed in his ears. The perspiration fell from his forehead in great drops, and frequently he found himself caught and held fast by strong, hook-like thorns.
Presently the forest opened. It was like coming out of a darkened room into the light. For a moment he was unable to see. During that moment he fancied he heard a sound quite near to him--a sound of something that moved. Looking about him, he discovered that he was standing in long reeds which reached almost to his chest. To his right, the trees of the forest were extended in a kind of avenue, and at their feet was a narrow, swiftly-flowing stream.
He had discovered Cæsar's back-water. Moreover, he had discovered Cæsar's canoe, for there it was, its bows just visible, peeping through the reeds.
[CHAPTER XI--IN THE LONG RAVINE]
Max took in the situation at a glance. If Cæsar had come north from Makanda by way of the back-water, he had not passed their canoe on the Hidden River. Two courses lay open to Max: he might cross the back-water in Cæsar's canoe, and pursue his journey on foot; or he might take this canoe and go down to Crouch, about whom he was anxious. The latter was undoubtedly the wiser course to pursue. In the heart of Africa, one canoe is as good as another; and, besides, by taking Cæsar's canoe he would be paying off old scores.
Having come to this conclusion, he looked about him for a suitable way by which to approach the canoe. He had not taken one step in the right direction, when he discovered to his dismay that the reeds were growing in a bog, into which one leg sank deep before he was able to recover his footing on dry land.
Still, he had every reason to be hopeful. If the Portuguese and his party had disembarked at this place, there was clearly a way of getting into the canoe. For all that, search as he might among the reeds, he could not find it, and at last he retired to the top of the bank.
No sooner had he got there than he discovered that for which he had been looking. A tall tree had fallen in the forest, and the roots were half in the water. The canoe had been moored under the lee of this. On each side of the fallen tree the reeds grew so high that the trunk was half hidden from view.