There was a terrified yell from the natives in the background—a shout that was in perfect chorus—but they did not attempt to help their leader.
Nick Carter had Baboo Punyah straight out above his head, holding him there a moment, as if trying to decide what he should eventually do with him.
He made up his mind quickly. With a mighty heave, he sent the Hindu flying over his head, backward and headfirst into the river.
Luckily, it was fairly deep where Baboo Punyah plunged in, and the worst he suffered was the wetting.
Jai Singh dragged him out as he came to the side of the river, the yellow stain of the water marking his white clothing.
Without saying anything more, the disgruntled Hindu walked away, taking his friends with him, and there was nothing more said about additional pay for the boat. The ducking had settled that bit of extortion.
As the four oarsmen began to urge the boat upstream, Nick Carter, sitting in the stern, by the side of Jai Singh, who steered, saw that most of the inhabitants of the village was staring after them curiously.
“I wonder how much those fellows know about Leslie Arnold’s disappearance,” muttered the detective. “Well, whatever they may know, they will not tell. Fortunately, I think we can do without their help.”
CHAPTER IV.
A STRANGE CRY AT NIGHT.
All night the boat moved up the yellow stream, the oarsmen working with the dogged industry of men who were laboring because they had to do it, and not from choice.