Next morning as soon as it was light we began again to cut off the top at the length we intended to have our boat, a task this which saved the labour of chopping off the branches. I worked hard, and the labour was made lighter by Uncle Dick’s pleasant conversation. For he chatted about savage and civilised man, and laughingly pointed out how the latter had gone on improving.
“You see what slow laborious work this chipping with our axes is, Nat,” he said one day, as we kept industriously on, “when by means of cross-cut saws and a circular saw worked by steam this tree could be soon reduced to thin boards ready for building our boat.”
Birds came and perched near us, and some were very rare in kind, but we felt that we must leave them alone so as to secure those we had obtained, and we worked patiently on till at the end of a week the tree began to wear outside somewhat the shape of a boat, and it was just about the length we required.
It was terribly hard work, but we did not shrink, and at last, after congratulating ourselves upon having got so far without being interfered with by the savages, we had shouldered our guns and were walking back to the hut one evening when we caught sight of a black figure running across an opening, and we knew that our time of safety was at an end.
“It is what I have always feared, Nat,” said my uncle quickly. “Quick; put big-shot cartridges in your gun. We will not spill blood if we can help it, but it is their lives or ours, and we must get safely back home.”
“What shall we do now?” I said huskily.
“Wait and see what the enemy mean to do, and—”
“Hi, yi, yi—Hi, yi, yi—Hi, yi, yi. Hey. Nat, mi boy. Ung-kul!” came shrilly through the trees.
“Hooray!” I shrieked, leaping out of my hiding-place. “Ebo! Ebo! Hi, yi, yi—Hi, yi, yi. Hooray!”
We ran to meet him, and he bounded towards us, leaping, dancing, rolling on the ground, hugging us, and seeming half mad with delight as he dragged us down to the sea-side, where a new surprise awaited us.