“Don’t act in that spirit for all our sakes, my lad,” said the captain. “All of you mind this: the watchfulness must not be relaxed even, for a moment. Ah! I’d give something if that fellow Shanter had been staunch. He could have relieved our anxiety in a very short time.”
“Let me go and see if I can discover any signs of them, father,” said Norman.
“What would you say if I tell you I am going?” replied the captain, quietly.
“No, no,” cried the boys in chorus. “You might be speared.”
“Exactly,” said the captain. “No, boys, we are no match for the blacks in trying to track them down.”
“They are adepts at hiding, and we might pass through a patch of scrub without seeing a soul, when perhaps a dozen might be in hiding.”
“I wish poor old Shanter was here,” sighed Rifle.
“Yes: he would be invaluable,” said Uncle Jack. That night passed in peace, and the next, giving them all such a feeling of security that even the captain began to think that the lesson read to the enemy had been sufficient to make them drive off their plunder and go; while, when the next day came, plans were made for a feint to prove whether the blacks were still anywhere near; and if it was without result, an attempt was to be made to refill the tubs. The next day some of the vigilance was to be relaxed, and avoiding his wife’s eyes as he spoke, the captain said, aloud:
“And then we must see if it is not possible to renew our stock, for none of the poor creatures are likely to stray back home. Not even a horse.—Boys,” he said, suddenly, “I’m afraid your friend has to answer for this attack. The love of the horses was too strong for him.”
Another twenty-four hours of peace followed, but at the last minute the captain had shrunk from sending down to the nearest point of the river for water, which could only be dragged up by hand after the water-tub had been filled.