“Hush! whisper.”
“But who said there was going to be a foight?”
“I did.”
“Where? Come on!”
“Hush! Don’t speak so loud. He’s right enough, father.”
“Then push the boat carefully out of this wilderness, and in Heaven’s name let’s go.”
Hamet unfastened a rattan line, and the boat began to glide downward at once, with bush and leaf scratching and rustling against side and thatch, till they were clear of the dark vegetable tunnel into which it had been thrust the previous morning. Then taking a pole, the Malay punted it along close in-shore, thrusting the metal-shod staff quietly down till, when they had gone about a hundred yards in the profound darkness beneath the trees, the point struck on something hard, when instantly there was a tremendous eddying swirl, the boat rocked, and Hamet said quietly, “Crocodile.”
A couple of minutes later Mr Braine pointed to the spot where he wished to land, and the boat was cleverly brought in close to the bank, here so steep that it lay invisible from the shore, the overhanging boughs hiding it from any one upon the river.
“Now, Frank,” whispered his father, “there must be absolute silence. Not a word must be spoken. You and Mr Greig must keep the boat. You will be sure to hear us coming, so stand ready to cast off.”
“Yes, father.”