“All the better,” said Briscoe, laughing. “You know what you English folks say about driving: ‘If you go to the left you are sure to be right; if you go to the right you’ll be wrong.’ I think we might well stick to that rule in this case.”
The left branch was chosen, and they sailed swiftly up it, finding to their surprise that there was scarcely any appearance of current, and soon after a suitable spot for a landing-place presented itself in one of the many bends of the river’s sinuous course.
Here they landed, and Dan was soon busy preparing food, while as far as they could make out they were where human foot had never pressed the soil before.
Chapter Thirty Three.
The Sound of Many Waters.
The fire was carefully extinguished before night-fall, so that no flash or gleam might betray the adventurers’ whereabouts to any prowling foe, and watch was set in each boat after they had been moored about twenty feet from the shore. Everything had been made snug, arms issued round and loaded ready, and once more sleep came to all save Brace and his American companion, who sat together for a good hour, gazing into the forest gloom and listening to the many strange sounds which rose among the dense growth.
Then sleep overtook them, just when they were vainly trying to puzzle out the meaning of a strange booming roar, which sounded not unlike thunder at a distance.
“I guess that’s what it is,” Briscoe had said. “That’s the nearest I can get to it. Maybe there’s a clump of mountains not very far away, and they’ve got a storm there.”