"Done!" echoed Dr. Goldbeck.
Hardly had the echoes of their voices died away when the sentry wheeled about hastily and said: "Captain, something comes down the river. It has just rounded the bend. It looks too large for a boat."
Captain Becker rushed down below, hurried back with a pair of glasses, and took a long survey.
"It is a raft," he cried, turning to his companions. "Men are lying on it; whether dead or alive I cannot tell. Man a boat at once. The current runs swift, and we will have barely time to reach it."
The boat was ready almost as soon as they reached the ground, and under the steady movement of four pairs of oars they shot swiftly out on the yellow tide of the Juba.
In silence they approached the drifting object, the boat's prow cutting sharply the opposing waves.
Now it was twenty yards away—ten yards—five yards—then the boat bumped gently on the logs and Dr. Goldbeck boarded the raft, followed quickly by his two companions.
"Mein himmel!" he cried. "What can this mean? Six dead bodies! Horrible! horrible!"
He turned pale for a moment. Then, as his professional instinct asserted itself, he knelt beside the motionless forms, and one by one tore the breast covering away and applied his hand to the heart.
"Ach!" he cried joyfully, rising to his feet, "they still live; there still remains a spark of life! To the shore, quick! lose no time, or all will die!"