JOE stared at the stream in terrible fascination, half expecting to see many other of the repulsive reptiles make an appearance. But if any more were there, they failed to come in sight.
“One’s enough, though,” mused Joe.
Mr. Holton motioned for Noko to lead the way. True, it promised to be a trying experience, crossing that slippery log, but the sooner over the better.
A rope was handed to each of the whites, who grasped it thankfully. The natives, however, had little need for this aid, accustomed as they were to jungle life. Even with the heavy packs, they went easily across to the other side.
Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton also stepped across without difficulty. Bob, the next to try it, demonstrated his skill by not making a single misstep. Joe, who was last, gripped the rope a little more tightly than had the others, for he had never considered himself good at balancing.
“Take it slowly,” cautioned his father, looking on anxiously from the other side. “Don’t look at the water. It might make you dizzy.”
Joe was more than halfway across when a terrific splashing sound made him glance around impulsively. Then his expression changed, and he suddenly grew pale.
His foot was slipping—slowly, to be sure, but slipping!
Suddenly the youth gave a wild cry of fear and then went plunging into the muddy water!
There were anxious shouts from the opposite shore as Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton pulled desperately on the rope. Bob and Noko also lent their efforts, and together the four drew Joe slowly but surely toward the bank.