Then Venning laughed—a little short nervous laugh. "We have done it," he said.
"We have, indeed," said Compton.
"But if we can only pick up Muata and his jackal, we should be all right. Just a nice party."
The rudder-chains clanked; the boat set up a heavy wash as she turned from her course. There was a splashing, and something snorted almost in Venning's face.
"Nearly ran into a hippo!" sang out Mr. Hume. "We must keep out into mid-river; it's too risky inshore. Tell me when you are tired."
"We're quite fresh yet," replied Compton. "It is easier than sculling."
"Moves like clockwork," said Venning, gaily. "I could keep on all night."
"We'll have to keep on all night and all to-morrow," muttered Mr. Hume; and in a few minutes he relieved Compton, making him put on a heavy coat before taking the wheel. "It's the chill that is dangerous. In an hour you will relieve Venning."
Turn and turn the boys relieved each other at intervals, but Mr. Hume swang to his lever till the dawn, when the mast was stepped, the sail spread, and the spirit-lamp got out for the making of coffee. After breakfast the awning was spread, the mosquito curtains stretched round, and the boys were ordered to sleep. They demurred at first, but the hunter rather sharply insisted, and no sooner were they stretched on the rugs than they were asleep. The yoke had been slipped over the rudder, and, using the lines, Mr. Hume sailed the Okapi single-handed, taking her across the lake-like width till he was under the wooded hills of the south bank, where he beat about for an hour or so in the hope that Muata might have covered the distance at the native's trotting-pace. It was, he told himself, not likely, however, that the chief could have done so, after being for hours bound to a post; and after a time he beat out again into mid- stream afar off, so that no village natives should spy upon the craft. He did not share in the triumph of his young companions. Too well he knew that they had risked everything by their secret departure; but he could not see that any other course was open to them, as if they had remained it would have been difficult for them to prove that they were not concerned in Muata's escape. He knew, too, that if he had abandoned the chief, as the price of security, the boys would have lost all faith in him.
What, however, he did feel was, that the responsibility rested on him. If a mistake had been made it was his mistake, and if the boys suffered from it the blame would be his.