"Couldn't we leave that alone, and trust to our speed on the water?" Errington suggested.
"Rather risky. Unless the blackguards have got sick of waiting all night and sheered off, they'll spot us as soon as we take the river, and another shot might do for us altogether. No; we must mend the stay somehow, and then fly inland until we're out of harm's way--until the petrol gives out."
"But the stay must be welded; and we can't do that without hammering. If the gunboat's crew are anywhere about they are sure to hear the row, and find us out in no time."
"We'll have to chance that," said Burroughs. "A worse thing is the want of proper tools. There's a hammer in the locker, but we haven't got a forge. We can make a fire in that old stove there; but we've no bellows, and we can never get heat enough without."
"Never say die. Where there's a stove there ought to be bellows. I'm going to look round. But work before breakfast, and no supper the night before, doesn't make you feel amiable, does it?"
"While you are looking for the bellows I'll stroll along the shore and find out what sort of a place we're on. It's just as well to know something about our whereabouts."
Burroughs walked past the sampan where Chung Pi had passed the night. A thick white mist lay over the swamp, through which nothing was visible beyond two or three yards. Chung Pi was sitting in the sampan with his arms tightly folded. He seemed to have shrunk; Lo San and Chin Tai also were blue with hunger and cold. Burroughs felt sorry for them all.
"I regret having been compelled to inflict these inconveniences on you, noble captain," he said; "it is a pity our charms have not availed."
"Ah! If you had not gone back for the second talisman we should have been safe," said Chung Pi mournfully.
Burroughs had heard nothing about the second talisman, but he did not ask for an explanation, merely promising that Chung Pi should enjoy a substantial feast as soon as they reached Sui-Fu.