Again he shook his head. In his attitude she sensed a new concentration upon something ahead. She became aware of a strange stir that was not of the air nor the water.
“Hush—sh—sh—sh—sh!” said something unseen, with an immense effect of restraint and enforced quiet.
The boat slewed sharply as Banneker checked their progress with a downthrust of oars. He edged in toward the farther bank which was quite flat, studying it with an eye to the most favoring spot, having selected which, he ran the stern up with several hard shoves, leapt out, hauled the body of the craft free from the balked and snatching current, and held out a hand to his passenger.
“What is it?” she asked as she joined him.
“I don’t know. I’m trying to think where I’ve heard that noise before.” He pondered. “Ah, I’ve got it! It was when I was out on the coast in the big rains, and a few million tons of river-bank let go all holds and smushed down into the stream.... What’s on your map?”
He bent over it, conning its detail by the light of the flash which she turned on.
“We should be about here,” he indicated, touching the paper, “I’ll go ahead and take a look.”
“Shan’t I go with you?”
“Better stay quiet and get all the rest you can.”
He was gone some twenty minutes. “There’s a big, fresh-looking split-off in the opposite bank,” he reported; “and the water looks fizzy and whirly around there. I think we’ll give her a little time to settle. A sudden shift underneath might suck us down. The water’s rising every minute, which makes it worth while waiting. Besides, it’s dark just now.”