"I'm not anxious to go on tonight," Harry contributed, "for I'd like to see what that mess on shore will amount to. There's something besides the appearance of the Black Bear exciting those fuzzy little natives, and we may miss something if we run away. I wouldn't like to do that."
So it was decided to remain where they were until morning. The panels were put up, leaving only the openings for ventilation, and the Wolf was brought close alongside.
Frank got the first watch in the drawing of sticks, and stationed himself at the prow, where he could look out on the river. Jack and Harry were soon asleep.
About midnight a great clamor arose on the west bank. In a moment it was echoed from the opposite shore. There was a beating of drums—the foolish drums which the natives made so crudely—and long chants, rising in the darkness like the monotonous melodies the boys had heard in the cotton fields of the South.
Frank shook Jack and Harry out of their bunks, much to the disgust of the two sleepy-heads. They did not need to ask questions as to the reason for this, for the chant was coming nearer, and the drums were beating like mad.
"They're arranging an attack!" Jack said, turning a searchlight out of the front loophole. "I can see half a dozen canoes hanging off and on at a bend above. I guess we made a mistake in stopping here."
"Perhaps we'd better drop down the river," Harry suggested. "I don't want those heathens swarming over the Black Bear."
Jack went to the stern and looked out on the swirling river from that point.
"If we do," he said, in a moment, "we'll bunt into a fleet of war canoes. We've got to put on all speed and drive ahead."
"Why not drop back?" asked Harry.