The Dutchman did not reply hastily, for he was considering the danger of such an expedition. However, in his heart of hearts, Meinheer was a humane man when his fears were quieted, and he argued that here there could be no danger.
“Good. We will go, Meinheer,” he said. “Ze sooner ze bedder.”
“And as I am the lightest and perhaps the most active, I will land,” added Dick. “Then, in case of an attack, you two can cover me with your rifles. There is no trusting these rascals, particularly when James Langdon commands them.”
A few minutes later the remains of the breakfast had been cleared away, and while the trio smoked their pipes and chatted, Johnnie stoked the furnace, throwing coal upon it till a column of smoke issued from the funnel. Soon the hiss of steam from the escape told that the launch was ready for a move, and at once Mr Pepson stepped to the tiller.
“We’ll leave our boats anchored over here,” he said, “for it would never do to have them over on the far shore and run the risk of attack. In the confusion, if there were need to escape, they would hamper us, and would perhaps be lost. Make them fast together, Dick, and we’ll leave Johnnie in charge.”
Another two minutes saw the launch steaming away from beneath the trees on the eastern side of the Pra, and presently her nose was pushing its way through the reeds and osiers which cropped up here and there on the far side.
Mr Pepson still held the tiller, a rifle beside him, and a cigar between his lips. The bulky form of the Dutchman was stretched out on the deck behind the tiny cabin. His rifle was at his shoulder, and he surveyed the jungle eagerly, treating every dark patch and shadow to a fierce scowl which boded ill for the man who might be lurking there. His finger on such occasions would go to the trigger of his snider till Dick fidgeted and felt uncomfortable, for he was not far from the line of fire. He lay in the bows, a light bamboo in his hands, with which he every now and again sounded the bed of the river to make sure that there was sufficient water. A few minutes’ gliding along in the shadows brought them to the spot where the action of the previous night had taken place, a spot instantly recognised by the figures lying about it. For stretched in the sun were the victims of Dick’s fire, as yet undiscovered by the river alligators. Dick shuddered, and transferred his gaze to the bush. Then, remembering Mr Pepson’s words, he looked again. One poor wretch lay face down in the water, his body already almost covered with drifting mud, while his feet protruded on to the land. Close to him lay a second, still and dark, his limbs stretched to their fullest extent, while some paces away were three more of the attackers, all stark and dead.
“The reward of rascality,” cried Mr Pepson. “A horrid sight, my friends; but then we might have been in their place, and war and battles are always horrid. How’s the depth, Dick? Can you get ashore?”
For answer our hero tried the sounding with his stick again, and then stood up. Taking his rifle he dropped lightly into the water and waded ashore. Then he went to the figures lying about. They were all undoubtedly dead, and a glance satisfied him of that fact. At once he went on towards the bush, which at this point receded somewhat from the river, and presently something attracted his eye. It was a path leading into the forest, a path freshly broken and trodden, the one, no doubt, by which the robbers had fled.
“Leave it,” shouted Mr Pepson. “You would be in the middle of the jungle, where all is dark, and we could not help you. Come back. We have learned all that we desired. There are five killed here, and one whom you shot in the first boat. But one moment. Do any of these fellows belong to our runaway crew?”