Murray lost no time in making for the spot where the two men were in charge of the boat; but simple as the task appeared on the surface, it proved to be far otherwise.
He had told himself that he had only to follow in reverse the faintly-marked track taken by the black who had been their guide; and that he set himself to do, until he felt that he must be close to the stream that they had ascended; but if close by, it was by no means visible, and after making a cast or two in different directions without result, he pulled up short, the men following his example and looking at him wonderingly.
“It was just here that we left the boat-keepers, wasn’t it, Tom?” he said.
“Don’t seem like it, sir,” replied the man, “’cause if it was just here, where is it?”
“But it must have been here,” cried Murray, growing irritable and confused.
“That’s what I thought, sir,” said the man, “but it don’t seem to be nowhere near. What do you say, messmate?”
“I warn’t a-looking out, lad,” replied Titely. “You see, I didn’t take no bearings ’cause I says to mysen, ‘Mr Murray ’ll see to that,’ and what I does was to foller with my eyes screwed back’ards over my shoulders like a she hare at the dogs.”
“Same here, messmate,” says Tom May. “‘Mr Murray took the bearings to begin with,’ I says to myself, ‘and I’ll keep a sharp lookout for the enemy, who maybe ’ll try to run us down.’”
“Then you neither of you feel that you can remember the black fellow’s trail?” said Murray, speaking excitedly, and looking hard at the big sailor the while.
“Well, I can’t answer for Titely, sir,” said the man.—“Why don’t you speak up like a man, messmate, and say what you know?”