Both Compton and Venning, as soon as there was light enough, took a careful look around for the crocodile; but though that wily brute was probably near, he did not show himself. They could, however, see the track made by the hippo when he had broken through into the water, and Mr. Hume, stepping ashore, went up this track to spy around. He returned with the report that the natives were signaling from village to village by columns of smoke sent up from fires fed with damp wood to make a heavy smoke.
"They will be keeping a sharp look-out, and we had better remain here."
"It seems to me," said Compton, "that we have been here already a week."
"Quite that," said Venning.
"The time has seemed long because you have been receiving new impressions."
"I thought it was a fish I received," murmured Compton.
"Each impression," continued the hunter, "is a sort of milestone in your memory, so that an hour crowded with several of these milestones will appear to be longer than a whole blank day. You will get used to such interrupted nights—that is, if our journey does not end here."
"Oh, come, sir, we have dodged them beautifully."
"The feeling of security is the beginning of disaster," said Mr. Hume, oracularly. "The rule of the bush is to keep your eyes skinned."
"What is the order of the day, then?"