"Let's be on our way," said Dick. "I can see that Raal is keen to start."
"Patience, patience!" said the Mahatma, but already Dick had shouted an order, the horsemen mounted and Mutaba led the way to the river.
When the party reached the bank of the stream, a broad, sluggish river, almost entirely overhung with the great trees alive with parrots and chattering monkeys, they found that swift-footed natives had already reached it by taking short cuts. No time had been wasted. Vines, tough creepers and branches had been woven between growing trees to form a large enclosure where the horses could be held in safety.
A fleet of canoes was riding on the river and the Taharans and Gorols were now to learn the art of paddling a vessel down stream.
Mutaba went in the first canoe with Dick and Dan.
Raal followed in the second, while Kurt and Kurul commanded the third and fourth.
Following a command from the Mahatma, a number of men came forward. They were paddlers who were to accompany the expedition and instruct the desert dwellers how to handle the boats.
Soon the river was crowded with light craft, manned by warriors at the paddles.
"Where is the Wise Old Bird?" asked Dan.
"Hope he didn't give us the slip," said Dick. "We may need his help before the day is over."