Sanders was on the upper reaches of the Tesai, in terra incognita. The tribes around were frankly hostile, but they would not venture about on a night like this.
Outside, the thunder cracked and rolled and the lightning flashed incessantly.
Sanders found a cheroot in a drawer and lighted it, and soon the cabin was blue with smoke, for it had been necessary to close the ventilator. Dinner was impossible under the conditions. The galley fire would be out. The rain which was now beating fiercely on the cabin windows would have long since extinguished the range.
Sanders walked to the window and peered out. He switched off the light, the better to observe the condition outside. The wind still howled, the lightning flickered over the tree-tops, and above the sound of wind and rushing water came the sulky grumble of thunder.
But the clouds had broken, and fitful beams of moonlight showed on the white-crested waves. Suddenly Sanders stepped to the door and slid it open.
He sprang out upon the deck.
The waning forces of the hurricane caught him and flung him back against the cabin, but he grasped a convenient rail and pulled himself to the side of the boat.
Out in mid-stream he had seen a canoe and had caught a glimpse of a white face.
"Noka! Abiboo!" he roared. But the wind drowned his voice. His hand went to his hip—a revolver cracked, men came along the deck, hand over hand, grasping the rails.
In dumb show he indicated the boat.