The morning however broke clear. Jack told his uncle what had occurred.
"Humph!" grunted Mr. Martindale. "What's the meaning of it, I wonder?"
"Do you think it was a move of that Belgian fellow, uncle?"
"Mr. Elbel? No, I don't. He has no reason for interfering with us. I've bought the rights from his company, and as they'll get royalties on all the gold I find, he's not such a fool as to hinder us."
"But Samba, uncle?"
"Bah! He was egged on to demand the boy by that villainous-looking nigger, and his dignity being a trifle upset, he thought he'd try it on with us. No, I don't think he was at the bottom of it. I've always heard that these niggers are arrant thieves; the villagers were unfriendly, you remember, and most likely 'twas one of them who took a fancy to our canoes. Glad you frightened him off, anyway. What about your wound?"
"It's nothing to speak of—a slight flesh wound. I washed it with alum solution, and don't think it will give me any bother."
"Lucky it's no worse. We'll set a careful watch every night after this. And take my advice: if you can't sleep, don't go prowling about; it isn't safe in these parts. Try my dodge; shut your eyes and imagine you see forty thousand sheep jumping a patent boundary fence in single file; or if that don't work, say to yourself: 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck would chuck wood?'—and keep on saying it. I've never known it fail."
"Perhaps it's a good job I didn't know it last night," replied Jack, laughing. "We should have been minus four canoes."
"And all our stores. But don't do it again, there's a good fellow. I've paid double passage, and I don't want to go home alone."