“I wonder if that elephant is watching for us yet?” said he. “If so, he is what Swartboy calls Congo,—an ’ole fool! I’m sorry we can’t oblige him by paying him a visit, and rewarding him for his prolonged vigil.”
Willem’s attempt at being witty was intended to cheer his disconsolate companions. But it was a sad failure. Neither could reply to it even by a smile.
Chapter Twenty Two.
A Separation.
All day long did they stay on the islet of stone. They were no longer apprehensive of being swept away by the flood. They saw that it had reached its highest, but its subsidence had not yet commenced.
The sun was already in the zenith, hotter than ever, literally roasting them upon the rock. The situation was intolerable.
“Shall we have to stay here another night?” impatiently asked Hendrik.
“It looks deuced like it,” answered Willem.