There was a distant rumble of thunder.
'That may go on for weeks before anything happens,' said Archie.
'Or,' he went on, 'we could ferry over to the Mimi. What you said. I don't believe we'd be any better off. Any meat they could spare wouldn't go far among all of us. They'll have wasted half. More likely we'll have to feed them. And Ward's ammunition—that'll have gone by now. No native can resist cartridges.'
Norah remembered what had looked like the ammunition chest at the bottom of the disappearing dinghy. Its value would explain the Hindoo's incorruptibility. She expressed her conviction, and, at the mention of the Indian, Dick broke into curses.
'The third way,' Archie began again, 'has got the points of the other two. If we made a couple of rafts, we can tap the Mimi for anything in her that's any use, and we can coast along the shore with game and fish always handy. Sooner or later we must come to a fishing village.
'Danger,' he added, 'is squalls and crocs.'
Dick considered the scheme. If there was a trap, it was well hidden.
'It seems all right,' he admitted.
'That's most gratifying,' replied Archie, and Norah reflected that the squalls which would follow the coming of rain might be less dangerous than the heat which came before it.
'We're wasting time,' said Archie, and calling Matao he gave him his orders in Chi-wemba.