“All the things are safely landed,” cried Domingos at length.
We then, casting off the tow-rope, paddled round, and ran the bow of the canoe on shore. Not till then did True leap out of her. Domingos and the stranger coming down, helped us to drag her out of the water.
“We may save the raft also,” said the latter. “You may require it to continue your voyage; as I conclude you do not intend to locate yourselves here, and compel me to seek another home in the wilderness.”
I was struck by the morose tone in which the stranger spoke. He, however, assisted us in dragging up the raft sufficiently high to prevent its being knocked about by the waves, which ran even into the comparatively smooth part of the channel in which we found ourselves.
“We heartily thank you for your assistance,” said John. “We owe the preservation of our lives to you; for, with the increasing storm, we could scarcely have escaped destruction had we been driven further down the river.”
“You owe me no thanks, young sir. I would have done the same for a party of benighted savages, as you call them,” answered the stranger. “Your dumb companions are equally welcome. I am not ill pleased to see them. It speaks in your favour that they follow you willingly, instead of being dragged about with ropes and chains, or confined in cages, as civilised men treat the creatures they pretend to tame. I have, however, but poor shelter to offer you from the deluge which will soon be down on our heads. Follow me; there is no time to be lost.”
“But we must not allow our goods to remain out,” said John.
“I will assist you, then, to carry them,” answered the stranger, lifting up double the number of packages which we usually carried at a time.
We then all loaded ourselves. Ellen insisted on carrying a package, and followed the stranger, who went before us with his torch. We could not even then exchange words, as we had to proceed in single file along a narrow pathway, fringed on either side with thick shrubs—apparently the after-growth of a cleared spot, soon to spring up again into tall trees. We soon found ourselves within the forest, where, so dense was the gloom, that without the torch to guide us we could not have made our way. Its ruddy flame glanced on the trunks of the tall trees, showing a canopy of wide-spreading boughs overhead, and the intricate tracery of the numberless sipos which hung in festoons, or dropped in long threadlike lines from them. Passing for a few yards through a jungle, the boughs spreading so closely above our heads that we often had to stoop, we found ourselves in an open space, in which by the light of the torch we saw a small hut with deep eaves, the gable end turned towards us. It was raised on posts several feet from the ground. A ladder led to a platform or verandah, which projected from the wall of the gable, in which was a small door.
“Here you are welcome to stow your goods and rest for the night,” said the stranger. “No human being but myself has ever entered it; for I seek not the society of my fellow-men, either savage or civilised, so-called. To-morrow, if the weather clears, you will, I conclude, proceed on your way; or if you insist on remaining, I must seek another home. Let that be understood, before I make you further welcome. Now, enter, and such accommodation as my hut affords shall be yours.”