"Hist!" exclaimed O'Hara warningly. "I can hear voices."
"It's time for us to go," whispered Armstrong.
Denbigh cast off. The barrel appeared to leap away from them, as the punt was swept down-stream.
"Not much use attempting to land at this point," said Armstrong.
"I don't know so much about that," rejoined Denbigh. "Personally I'm rather anxious to see what these fellows are doing ashore. Keep her going, Pat. We'll strike the bank in less than half a mile."
Paddling in silence the men pursued their tedious course athwart the current until a dull roar was borne to their ears.
"The bore!" exclaimed Armstrong.
"It will be quite ten minutes before it reaches us," replied Denbigh. "Stick to it, lads!"
The amphibians, with the keen instinct that nature bestowed upon them, also were aware of the approach of the foaming mass of water, for the centre of the river was literally alive with hippopotami and saurians that had not gone ashore for a nocturnal ramble. The crocodiles on the mud-flats were either making for deep water or else crawling higher up the banks out of the rush of the irresistible bore.
"Aground!" exclaimed Denbigh as the punt's bows touched the mud. "Check her from swinging round."