“I am afraid that Arthur is right,” remarked Uncle Paul. “It would be folly to expose ourselves to danger if it can be avoided.”
The discussion was still going on when we caught sight of two figures approaching through the fast increasing gloom. Could they be the savages of whom we were talking? I confess that I felt very uncomfortable,—not so much for myself as for Marian and my father; and for the first time since we reached the Orinoco I began to wish that we were safe among civilised people. I suspect that my companions shared my fears. No one spoke. At length our anxiety was set at rest by hearing the voices of Kallolo and Maco. They soon joined us, bringing a number of ripe purple plums, and some bunches of the delicious maraja, the fruit of several species of palms, which I may as well here say afforded an acceptable supper to all the party. We eagerly asked if they had seen any Indians.
“We have,” answered Kallolo; “but they are a long way off, and as they will not wander from their encampment during the night, we may, if necessary, avoid them. We will, however, first learn if they are friends or foes. If they are friends, they may assist us with their canoes in getting through the passage; but if they are foes, we must try to steal by them without being seen.”
We had now all collected on the log, and Marian having retired to her cabin, we sat down to discuss the best plan of proceeding.
“I see we must do what I before proposed,” said the skipper. “We will build a small raft, and Peter and I, with Maco and Sambo, will endeavour to push through the passage while you all remain concealed from the natives behind these thick trees. Should we get through, I will send Maco back to guide you; and you must build two other small rafts, which will be sufficient to carry you.”
Uncle Paul did not at first seem inclined to agree with the skipper. He was unwilling that our party should separate; for, should the natives discover us, and prove hostile, they were more likely to attack a small number than a large one. At the same time, he acknowledged that by remaining on the log we might be able to retreat on it down the stream should we be attacked, and, at all events, still have some chance of saving our lives.
The skipper had at first proposed forming the raft immediately, and embarking on it during the night, so as to pass the neighbourhood of the Indian encampment before daylight; but so great was the darkness in the confined spot where we were, that we soon found it would be impossible to commence our building operations till the return of day, and he was therefore compelled to put off his expedition till the next night.