"I don't know, Buck," replied Dent. "But I wish we were ashore. This isn't a country to take any chances in."
All three watched the dark, long shape behind them, and the Shan pulled with all his might.
"It's after us." Jim Dent's low, fierce tones broke into the tense silence, and Buck gave a growl of anger.
"What's their game?" he muttered.
"Run us down, there's no doubt of it," replied Dent. "That skiff is built of stiff teak planks, with a nose as sharp and hard as an iron spike. If they once hit this light sampan they'll cut it in two and scupper us."
"Ay, ay," said Buck, "and drop an oar on the head of a man who tries to swim."
The long narrow row-boat was now heading for them as straight as an arrow. There could be no doubt of the rowers' intent. They meant to run down the slight sampan and hurl its occupants into the deadly current below. Driven by six powerful oarsmen, the skiff was coming on at tremendous speed, and the shore was still a dim and distant line.
Jim Dent spoke again quickly to the Shan, and the latter made a swift reply and bent to his oars with all his might. He understood their danger better than any one, supposing that his light vessel was run down, and he beat the water with long powerful strokes which drove the tiny craft forward with great power. Jim Dent had begun to rummage in the stern, and soon drew out a broad-bladed steering paddle. He dipped this into the water and added a strong dexterous stroke to the efforts of the boatman; now the sampan began to fly.
"Isn't there anything for us, Jim?" cried Jack. "Must we sit idle?"
"There's not another thing to pull with in the boat," said Dent. "I'll lay in with all the strength I've got with this paddle. We'll take turns at it."