He did not have very long to wonder, however, for, just before midnight, Joaquim prodded Hal gently in the ribs.
“Canoe she come,” he muttered between his teeth. “We keep back in dark.”
“I’ll say we will,” Hal whispered in return.
The canoe swished through the water and presently appeared just below the settlement. There seemed to be no other boats with them, and Hal and the Indian exchanged glances of satisfaction. Goncalves, sitting smug and content while Pizella slaved at the paddle, seemed to sense nothing unusual.
Hal noticed immediately that Pizella was carrying a bow, and arrows were lying at his feet. When he pushed the boat into the embankment and got out with his bare feet to make it fast he reached for them. Goncalves smiled.
“Pallidas—si?” he murmured.
“Si,” responded Pizella.
“Not so fast, Goncalves!” Hal roared in a voice that sounded almost sepulchral, coming as it did from under the rain-dripping trees. “We’ve got you covered!” He said we’ve as if it constituted a tremendous armed force.
Goncalves moved like lightning. Without a word, he shoved the boat back into the stream with the tremendous energy of his excitement. For some reason he seemed to have completely forgotten the wading half-caste who stumbled and tripped through the water in his haste to clamber back into the canoe.
Hal fired the gun then over the Brazilian’s head. But the fellow had taken up the paddle and began to stroke vigorously off in the dark. Pizella meanwhile had neither been able to gain the canoe or even keep up with him. Also, it was apparent that the water was too high for him to wade any longer.