No animals would conduct themselves so, they must be men! Gracious Providence grant that they be men!
They moved steadily forward among the thinning trees to the very margin of the river, and were plainly to be perceived. Native Burmese! Fishermen, bearing a large net, which they were preparing to cast into the water, and draw up stream.
Ralph's voice failed him from revulse of feeling, he thought that he should choke. He sprang to his feet, tore off the last rags upon him, twisted them round a stick, and waved them in the air.
They were not perceived,—no notice was taken. He stooped to the water, drank from the hollow of his hand, his tongue was unloosed, he cast water precipitately over head and face, stood erect once more, clear from the undergrowth, in the plashy shallows, waved his flag with the energy of despair, and shouted with all his might—"Ahoy! Ahoy! Ahoy!"
[CHAPTER XXII]
KIRKE AND DENHAM MEET
Ralph forgot every language but his native English in the desperate excitement of the moment.
"Halloa! Ahoy!" he vociferated, without knowing what he called; but, to his great astonishment, the reply was no Burmese "Ameh!" (mother) the universal exclamation among the natives of that country upon every occasion.
No, one figure started violently, turned sharply round, lifted a hand to shade its eyes, with a gesture strangely familiar, and an English voice, equally strange and equally familiar, responded, "Halloa! Ahoy!" to his cry.