"Charlie," cried Bill, "you're a brick! Give us a shake of your yellow hand. Hurrah! boys, Charlie's going to do it!"
Never perhaps was sunset waited for with more impatience.
The great and unanswerable question was this: Would these savages attack immediately after darkness fell, or would they take some time to deliberate?
But behind the rugged mountains down sank the sun at last, and after a brief twilight the stars shone out.
Charlie was not going alone. He had asked for the assistance of many Indians, and in a whisper he gave them their orders.
Our heroes did not interfere in any way, for fear of confusing the good fellow's plans. But they soon noted that while Charlie himself and two Indians left in one of the smallest canoes, the others disappeared like snakes in the grass, creeping northwards over the plain.
And now there was silence, for the wind was hushed; silence everywhere, that deep, indescribable silence which nightfall ever brings to a wild and savage land, in which even the beasts are still and listening in forest and dell, not knowing from which direction danger may spring.
Within the little camp nothing could be done but lie still, every man holding his breath with suspense. Nothing could be done save watch, wait, count the weary minutes, and marvel at their length.
Suddenly, however, the deep silence was broken by a mournful cry that came from riverwards. It was apparently that of an owl seeking for its mate, but it was taken up and repeated northwards all over the plain twixt camp and forest, and almost at the same time tiny tongues of fire sprang up here and there and everywhere.
Higher and higher they leapt, along the ground they ran, meeting in all directions down the dark river and across the wild moor by the edge of the woodland. The undergrowth was dry, the grass was withered, and in an amazingly short time the whole forest by the banks of the Madeira was sheeted in devastating flames.