Dick's horror was great. It would have been greater still if he had known that they were cannibals. They were the natives settled at the lacustrine village higher up the river. When the piece of thatch had been knocked off in passing the piles a glimpse had been caught of the passengers below, and aware that the cataract ahead must ultimately bring them to a standstill, the eager barbarians had followed them persistently day by day for the last eight days.
Now they thought they had secured their prize, but loud was their yell of disappointment when on stripping off the thatch they found only one person, and that a mere boy, standing beneath it.
Dick stood as calmly as he could at the bow, and pointed his gun towards the savages, who were sufficiently acquainted with the nature of fire-arms to make them afraid to attack him.
Mrs. Weldon with the others, in their eagerness to watch Dick's movements, had remained standing upon the shore of the river, and at this instant were caught sight of by one of the natives, who pointed them out to his companions. A sudden impulse seized the whole of them, and they sprang into the canoe; there seemed to be a practised hand amongst them, which caught hold of the rudder-oar, and the little craft was quickly on its way back.
Although he gave up all as now well-nigh lost, Dick neither moved nor spoke. He had one lingering hope yet left. Was it not possible even now that by sacrificing his own life he could save the lives of those that were entrusted to him?
When the canoe had come near enough to the shore for his voice to be heard, he shouted with all his might,-
"Fly, Mrs. Weldon; fly, all of you; fly for your lives!"
But neither Mrs. Weldon nor Hercules stirred; they seemed rooted to the ground.
"Fly, fly, fly!" he continued shouting.
But though he knew they must hear him, yet he saw them make no effort to escape. He understood their meaning; of what avail was flight when the savages would be upon their track in a few minutes after?