“I don’t know about that,” was the quick response. “Perhaps you carry Jonah.”
It was right that such a man, who had long sustained the despairing hearts of his fellow voyagers, should be the first to discover for them the signs of a well-grounded hope of safety.
About noon the clouds which had been obscuring the sky began to break away, and the sun came out in all its glory, lighting a pathway through the distant haze.
“Land ahead!” shouted Buffalo Bill, in stentorian tones.
“Land ahead!” came back in wild response from the other boats, while cheer after cheer rose again and again, until the glad voices failed from exhaustion.
The land was miles distant, and they had only the vaguest idea of what sort of place it might be.
In all probability it was a wilderness inhabited by savage Indians, who, although nominally at peace with the white man, would yet not hesitate to take their scalps when they saw their weak, if not utterly hopeless, condition.
Buffalo Bill wished now that Congo had not prevented him from dashing down below and getting his weapons. They were likely to be badly needed when that land was reached.
But the rest of the company recked little of the dangers which might confront them ashore. The main fact in their minds was that there in front of them was the solid earth—grass-covered, tree-crowned, and beautiful. Could they but reach it and feel sure that a watery grave no longer yawned for them they felt that their happiness would be complete.
The greatest care was still needed, for there was danger that the excitement of this joy might produce some indiscretion which would result in wrecking them on the shore.