“Too far away,” he said. “This river certainly is sweeping us along at a great rate. There, I can’t see them any more.”
And standing up, Jack waved his handkerchief as the raft swept around a bend and his father and the party ashore were lost to view.
Then Jack crouched down between Bob and Frank.
“We’ll have to remember one thing, fellows,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “And that is that these blacks will stick to the raft, perhaps, if we can manage to keep them from becoming excited and apprehensive. But if they lose their heads, they’ll jump overboard and swim for it. And in that case our chance of saving the raft and all these supplies and equipment will be mighty slim. So it is up to us to keep smiling, because they’ll be watching us. In fact, they’re watching us now.”
The blacks were, indeed, casting anxious glances toward the three boys. And the latter, accepting Jack’s outline of the situation, grinned in a way to disarm apprehension. Nevertheless, they could see from the way in which the Kikuyus turned to gaze at the water that they were speculating upon the possibilities of swimming ashore.
“Can the men swim, Matse?” asked Jack of the young interpreter who crouched nearest them, staring with fascinated gaze at the swift water bearing them along.
“All, baas,” replied Matse. “They say they stay long as can, but will swim if no can save raft. They ’fraid crocodile but more ’fraid waterfall.”
“Waterfall?” cried Frank, in alarm.
Matse nodded. “Me no can tell, baas,” he said. “Fella-boys say river um run too fast. Waterfall soon.”
Bob jumped to his feet. “Look here. We can’t sit here idle, waiting to be tossed toward one bank or the other, while all the time we may be skidding along toward a falls. I can’t hear any roar indicating one near at hand. Just the same, this river is running mighty fast, and there may be a falls ahead. Let’s get some of these poles together and try to rig up a stern sweep to guide us inshore.”