While he was still gazing at it, the canoe came within the circle of papyrus, and disappeared from view. Seeing another clear stretch on the near side of this clump of reeds, Tom called to Mbutu to run up the hill. It was important to know whether they were indeed pursued. Not that Tom was alarmed--he felt himself a match on even terms for any Portuguese,--but he preferred not to be taken by surprise, whatever happened. The canoe emerged from the reeds just as Mbutu reached the top of the hill. He looked in the direction Tom pointed, and with his naked eye at once descried the canoe. The next moment he declared excitedly:
"Dago man in canoe!"
"Bosh!" said Tom, to test him. "You have dago on the brain, I'm afraid."
"White man all say bosh!" returned the boy. "No bosh! no bosh! Dago man in canoe all same!"
Again the canoe vanished, and both observers watched tensely for its reappearance. Twenty minutes elapsed; then it glided into view again. It was now no more than a mile away.
"Sah, see!" cried Mbutu. "Dago sure nuff."
"You are right, Mbutu. We are being followed. We needn't get flustered, but we must start at once, and eat our breakfast as we go."
Hurrying down the hill, he ordered the crew on board, and loosed the rope. In another minute the canoe was bounding like a racer rapidly up-stream.
"The dago has not yet seen us, at any rate," said Tom, "and we may get clear away without being observed at all if the men put their backs into it."
"No, sah! Birds fly up; tell dago canoe in front. Dago know all same."