"Run faster!" yelled George, who evidently enjoyed Hal's plight. "They'll get you! Run hard!"
The lad was running close to the record when he disappeared.
In trying to find a more comfortable posture, so he could apply himself to an interesting study of his captors, Ken made the startling discovery that the branch which upheld him was splitting from the tree-trunk. His heart began to pound in his breast; then it went up into his throat. Every move he made--for he had started to edge toward the tree--widened the little white split.
"Boys, my branch is breaking!" he called, piercingly.
"Can't you get another?" returned George.
"No; I daren't move! Hurry, boys! If you don't scare these brutes off I'm a goner!"
Ken's eyes were riveted upon the gap where the branch was slowly separating from the tree-trunk. He glanced about to see if he could not leap to another branch. There was nothing near that would hold him. In desperation he resolved to drop the rifle, cautiously get to his feet upon the branch, and with one spring try to reach the tree. When about to act upon this last chance he heard Pepe's shrill yell and a crashing in the brush. Then followed the unmistakable roar and crackling of fire. Pepe had fired the brush--no, he was making his way toward Ken, armed with a huge torch.
"Pepe, you'll fire the jungle!" cried Ken, forgetting what was at stake and that Pepe could not understand much English. But Ken had been in one forest-fire and remembered it with horror.
The javelin stirred uneasily, and ran around under Ken, tumbling over one another.
When Pepe burst through the brush, holding before him long-stemmed palm leaves flaring in hissing flames, the whole pack of pigs bowled away into the forest at breakneck speed.