“Is it far?”
“No, not far.”
“Let’s get to it at once then.”
We struck off again, bearing to the left, and just at sunrise found that we were at the edge of the forest once more, with a well-defined track, showing where the river ran. Where we stood we were under the shade of the great trees, where scarcely anything grew beneath the spreading, tangled branches, while just beyond them there was a dense thicket of succulent growth glittering in the sunshine, where the leaves were still moist with dew, and some hundred or a hundred and fifty yards away there once more was the other edge of the forest, rising up over a rich band of growth similar to that which was close to where we stood.
The river lay between, I knew, though invisible from where we stood; and for the moment I felt more hopeful, for, after the long, dark tramp through the wilderness, we seemed to be now on the broad high-road which led straight past home.
Then my heart sank again, as I felt that perhaps the Indians were already on our track, and that even if they were not, they were between us and safety.
My reverie was interrupted by Pomp, who said briskly—
“Now, Mass’ George, what you tink?”
“We must get across the river at once.”
Pomp made a grimace.