“Wouldn’t do, Bobby; they wouldn’t trust us. They’d see us floating.”
“They’d think we were dead.”
“Not they. The Boers are too slim, as they call it, and would pump a few bullets into us. Besides, I have no fancy for being dragged down by a crocodile or grabbed by a hippo.”
“Think there are any crocs?”
“Plenty in some of the rivers.”
“But the hippos, wouldn’t touch us, would they?”
“Very likely. They don’t hesitate about seizing a canoe and crunching it in two. No, your plan won’t do, lad. I’d rather die ashore here.”
“Dry?” said Dickenson quietly. “Well, I dare say it would be nicer. But there, we’re not quite cornered yet.”
Crack went a bullet overhead, and a report came from a fresh direction almost simultaneously.
“Wrong!” said Drew coolly. “We are cornered now. That’s the first shot from the men who have crossed to our side.”