"So I did; but he didn't say he was going to capture you, and I—"
"We don't care to listen to your falsehoods, Baxter," interrupted
Dick sternly.
"You are fully as guilty as anybody. You admitted it before."
Cujo had gone off to watch Captain Villaire and his party. He now came back, bringing word that the brigand had taken a fallen tree and put out on the Congo and was drifting down the stream along with several of his companions in crime.
"Him won't come back," said the tall African. "Him had enough of urn fight."
Nevertheless the whole party remained on guard until morning, their weapons ready for instant use. But no alarm came, and when day, dawned they soon made sure that they had the entire locality around the old fort to themselves, the Frenchman with a broken arm having managed to crawl off and reach his friends.
What to do with Dan Baxter was a conundrum.
"We can't take him with us, and if we leave him behind he will only be up to more evil," said Dick. "We ought to turn him over to the British authorities."
"No, no, don't do that," pleaded the tall youth. "Let me go and
I'll promise never to interfere with you again."
"Your promises are not worth the breath used in uttering them," replied Tom. "Baxter, a worse rascal than you could not be imagined. Why don't you try to turn over a new leaf?"