Nat moved the water jar, which they had drunk from at supper—if such the meal may be called—closer to the wounded man and dragged him to a corner of the hut. There was a pile of leaves there—the big, broad foliage of the banana.
"Cover me with them," asked the man. "They'll hide me if any of them natives comes ter look in here."
Nat did this, and then, expressing a hope that the injured man, who, after all, had done them a good turn, would be all right, he and his companions set out.
Freed from their captivity by what seemed almost a miracle, they hesitated as they passed the portal of the hut.
Which way should they go?
As they lingered a fresh chorus of savage howls broke out on the air from the direction of the camp. At the same instant a faint illumination glowed upon the night. It spread and glared up fiercely, tinting the skies as it flamed higher.
To complete their work of devastation, the savages had fired the camp. From their howls and cries, they were dancing about it.
"Which way shall we go?" asked Joe, voicing the question in the hearts of all.
"I vote for the lake," said Nat. "Maybe we can find a boat there and make our way through the ravine and back to the 'Nomad.'"
Accordingly, skirting cautiously through the tropical growth, they made for the direction in which they judged the lake lay. The glare of the burning camp lit their path with a weird radiance, as they pushed onward.