“We must keep our eyes open,” Mervyn remarked, after communicating the Ayuti’s answer to his friends. “I have great hope that we shall yet come across one,” and, with that, the interrupted journey was resumed.
For a full hour they moved forward, then the jungle ended. Bursting through the last few scattered growths, they emerged upon the shore of a vast lake.
Strangely weird it looked, slumbering there in the twilight, with the fungi-gleam lighting up its waters for a few yards from shore.
“Do we go round?” Seymour asked, turning to the Ayuti.
“Nay,” was the reply, “there is a boat,” and, dismounting, he began to search amid the fungi close by. Soon his efforts were rewarded. From the shelter of a clump, some ten feet from the water’s edge, he dragged a boat—the most curious the explorers had ever seen. In shape like an Indian bark canoe, it was made of the skin of some animal, stretched tightly over a framework of bones. Despite the long years it must have lain in disuse, it was still serviceable, riding the water like a cork when launched.
“Enter!” Chenobi said; “I will ride round upon Muswani, and will meet ye upon the further side. ’Tis a straight course, and there is no danger.”
Leaping to his seat, he called up the hounds; then, with a wave of the hand, he galloped swiftly along the shore. Soon he vanished from view, the sound of Muswani’s hoofs died away, and at that the adventurers entered their strange craft.
Each grasping one of the bone paddles which lay in the bottom of the boat, Silas and the baronet struck off with quick, powerful strokes. Within a few moments their tiny craft was swallowed up in the gloom that veiled the lake.