“We’ll do so certainly,” said Dick, at once adopting the advice. “Look for a spot where we can hide her, and which we can pick out again should we require her. It must be on this bank, too, so we will keep within easy distance.”
It was not until an hour had passed that they hit upon a suitable place. Then, at a nod from the leader, the launch swung in closer to the bank, while Johnnie ran to the stern and drew in the painter. He ran the native craft up alongside the launch, and hopped lightly into her. Then, as Dick put the propeller astern—for the stream ran fairly strong here—the native pushed off, and guided the boat into the shallows. There was a massive tree there—a species of fern, growing to the height of thirty or forty feet perhaps, and dropping its abundant spreading foliage like an umbrella all round till the tips trailed in the water. Johnnie pushed boldly in, and Dick could see the big fronds shaking. Then he edged the launch closer in till her nose dipped under the leaves, and he heard her grate against the side of the native craft.
“Got um fast front and back,” sang out the native. “No move um, whateber happen. She fill wid water, and not sink. Tree hold um up nicely. Yes, and no one know um dere. Whole army pass, and neber guess. Golly, massa, de berry place!”
“And one to find easily,” answered Dick. “Now, hop along, and let us get off. We’ve plenty of steam, and I think we’ll put her hard at it. The tales of these warriors of King Koffee make me uneasy, and I’m anxious to get down to the coast.”
Very soon Johnnie appeared from amidst the leaves, and they pushed off into the stream till they reached the centre. And there they remained throughout the day, reeling the miles off rapidly, for they had the stream to help them.
“We’ll keep on without a single halt right down to the sea,” said Dick, as he sat on the edge of the engine-well, eating a meal which the native had just cooked. “We know there will be a moon, and now that the river is broader we shall be able to see easily. We’ll chance sandbanks, and hope that none will come in our path. By to-morrow morning the natives should be left behind, and we should be within reach of friends. Good coffee, Johnnie. You are a capital hand at other thing besides making war!”
The native stoker grinned his delight as he turned to face his master.
“When me so high me learn to cook,” he said, with a merry laugh, holding his hand out some three feet from the deck. “In my country de women and de children see to de food while de men smoke and sleep, and get strength for de fight.”
“A queer way of getting up one’s muscle,” laughed our hero. “Just fancy training for school sports, or a gymnastic competition, in a similar manner! One would be rather soft, and hardly in the best condition.”
“Dere where Johnnie learn to fight,” went on the stoker. “Me go out when me not yet a man, and in de first battle me kill an enemy. He rush so”—he clambered from the well, and demonstrated the method of attack with such energy that the launch rolled—“he make stroke at Johnnie’s head, and miss um mark, golly! by de inch. Den me answer. Me hit wid all de strength wid um club, and he go whop! He fall dead on de ground. Den me take um head, and shout de war cry.”