"Don't look quite so gloomy, Roland, old man. I tell you it is all plain sailing now. We have only to meet Benee when we get as far as the rendezvous, then strike across country, and off and away to the land of the cannibals and give them fits."
"Oh, I'm not gloomy, you know, Dick, though not quite so hopeful as you! We have many difficulties to encounter, and there may be a lot of fighting after we get there; and, mind you, that game of giving fits is one that two can play at."
"Choorka! Choorka!" shouted the captain of the leading boat, a swarthy son of the river.
As he spoke, he pointed towards the western bank, and thither as quickly as paddles could send him his boat was hurried. For they had been well out in the centre of the river, and had reached a place where the current was strong and swift.
But closer to the bank it was more easy to row.
Nevertheless, two of the canoes ran foul of a snag. One was capsized at once, and the other stuck on top.
The 'gators here were in dozens apparently, and before the canoe could be righted two men had been dragged below, the brown stream being tinged with their gushing blood.
Both were Indians, but nevertheless their sad death cast a gloom over the hearts of everyone, which was not easily dispelled.
On again once more, still hugging the shore; but after dinner it was determined to stay where they were for the night.
They luckily found a fine open back-water, and this they entered and were soon snug enough.