Читать книгу With Wolseley to Kumasi: A Tale of the First Ashanti War - Brereton Frederick Sadleir - Страница 4

“In a little while the sun will be down,” said Mr Pepson, as he sprawled on the deck of the steam launch that evening. “Then it will be dark in half an hour or less, and we shall have to think of setting a watch. Meinheer will take the first one. From seven to nine, Meinheer. Dick will follow from that hour till midnight, and I shall take the watch from the first moment of the new day till the light comes. That will be about three o’clock. Now let us get our supper.”

All day they had been steaming without adventure and without interruption up the broad sweep of the river Pra, seeing nothing to alarm them, and meeting with no difficulties. So far they had had plenty of water beneath their keels, and an ample space through which to steer. But there were signs that the river was narrowing, while all felt as if the forest was hemming them in.

“Zis is noding do whad we shall have soon,” the Dutchman said, with a wave of his arm. “Zis forest – I have been for some miles into him before, mine friends – sdredches for a long, long way. Id is tick, too. See how ze drees shood up close togeder. And watch below. Ze creepers are everywhere. Id would dake a day do cud a new road a mile long. Yes. Id is dense. Bud we shall have no drouble. Ze river dakes us do ze mine.”

“For which I am only too thankful,” added Mr Pepson. “Our journey should occupy but three days, or at the most four. If we had to march through the forest we should have to take an army of Fanti labourers to cut a road. And then think of the fever.”

“And of the machinery, too,” exclaimed Dick.

“Yes, that is another point,” agreed Mr Pepson. “This country has been noted for its gold for many years. The Ashantis have carried on a trade since they became a nation, and there is no doubt that there are vast natural stores. You may ask, why have others not attempted to open mines before this? They have done so. The beach at Elmina and at Cape Coast Castle is strewn with rusting machinery, which has been landed with a purpose, and then left to rot and rust simply because of the difficulty of transport, and because of this forest. Luckily for us our mine is near the river. But here’s supper. Sit down, Van Somering.”

It was delightful to be out there in the open, even though the air hummed with myriads of mosquitoes. The launch and her three consorts lay moored out in the stream some hundred yards or less from the left bank of the river. About them, but for the buzz of the insects and the ripple of the water, all was still and silent. Not a beast seemed to be stirring, while even aboard the boats all had settled down to rest. Johnnie, the stoker and driver, sat in the engine-well wiping his black hands after an inspection of the machinery, while the Fanti crew lay curled up in the bottom of the boats, two in each one, content with the world, waiting quietly for their evening meal. And now it was ready. With a broad grin Johnnie announced that the water boiled, while Dick, who had been superintending a dish of bacon which he had placed at the furnace door, sang out that it was done to a turn.

“Then I will make the coffee,” cried Mr Pepson. “Meinheer, see that the cloth is laid; and, Dick, steady with the bacon. We will start fair together.”

The cloth consisted of a sheet of newspaper, a very ancient London daily, which the Dutchman spread out on the deck. Plates were of enamelled iron – the class of ware to stand half a dozen campaigns – while mugs were of the same hardy material, and were apt to be used for soup or coffee, water or good wine, just as circumstances dictated. It was all very jolly. This al fresco picnic delighted Dick, and he set-to at the meal with gusto, apologising for his appetite.

“Id is goot! Id will make you grow sdoud, mine friend,” grunted Meinheer, in the midst of consuming a rasher. “Id will make you grow so big zad ze natives will zink you a gread man. See how zey dread me, Meinheer Van Somering!”

He looked down at his ample proportions with evident satisfaction, and then completed his attack upon the rasher.

“Do-nighd all will be quied, mine friends,” he went on. “I shall be on guard, and zese natives will not come. Perhaps lader zey will ask who we are. I will speak wiz zem. There will be no difficulty. Anozer rasher, Meinheer Dick.”

They ate till they were satisfied, for there was no reason to be careful with the rations, as they had an ample supply. The repast was ended with a second cup of steaming coffee, when the burly Dutchman produced a pipe of dimensions as ample as his own, and with a bowl which took quite a quantity of tobacco to fill it. Mr Pepson lighted up a cigar, while Dick produced a briar pipe. Then for some minutes there was silence between them, while the darkness deepened, and the cigar and the pipes shone redder and redder.

At length it was dark, so dark on the surface of the river that nothing was visible, and Dick could hardly see the figures of his comrades. But that was only for a little while. Soon a big pale, African moon got up, and, riding clear of the jungle, flooded the course of the river, the left bank near which the boats lay, and the tree-tops and jungle along that side. On the far bank all was densely dark, and no eye could penetrate the deep shadow which cloaked the dark and forbidding forest which stretched unbroken beside the Pra.

“Bed!” called out Mr Pepson, indulging in a yawn. “Meinheer, yours is the first watch. Wake Dick at nine. Good-night.”

“Good nighd, mine friends. Sleeb well, for I shall protect you.”

The Dutchman went aft to the tiny cabin, and fetched his rifle and a bag of cartridges. Then he seated himself upon the roof of the saloon, the rifle across his knees, and his pipe held firmly between his teeth.

Dick, too, was tired. It had been a long and interesting day, and he had watched the passing banks of the river till his eyes ached. Now he felt drowsy. He got up from the deck, stretched his arms and yawned, and then went off to the bows. A minute later he was wrapped in his blanket, which covered him from head to foot, his head was on a bag containing clothing, while his legs were stretched along the deck. Half an hour later he was asleep; all aboard, in fact, had turned in for their rest, save the solitary Dutchman, who still nursed his rifle, and puffed volumes of smoke from his lips without ceasing.

No wonder that Dick was charmed with this trip up-country. It appealed with all its force to a young fellow of his age. He revelled in the strangeness of the scenery, the dense, awe-inspiring forests, and all the teeming life hidden in their midst, and the silent, slow-flowing river. That evening, too, he had thought how beautiful it all was, and how peaceful. He had admired the cold rays of the moon, the sleepy boats lying beneath it, and the dark figures stretched out beneath the thwarts. He had listened, too, for a time to the music of the bush, which came now more loudly to his ear. There was the chatter of a regiment of monkeys, the call of night birds innumerable, and the droning hum of the insects. Ever and anon there came a deeper sound, as if from some beast wandering in search of its meal, while once, as he awoke and rose on his elbow, he caught sight of a graceful four-footed animal – a gazelle – tripping gently into the river to drink. After that he stretched out again, and, lulled by the droning sounds, slept deeply.

“What was that? Ah! that beast again!” he suddenly said in a whisper, as, some two hours later, he wakened with a start, only to close his eyes again, for he realised at once that the shriek he had heard was one which had often disturbed him at Cape Coast Castle – one which proceeded from the throat of a harmless forest animal.

“Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!”

“An owl now,” thought our hero, dreamily. “There it goes again, and quite close, too. Bother the bird!”

“Hoot! Hoot!”

This time Dick sat up on his elbow, and looked about him vainly for the bird. “Hoot! Hoot!” It came from his right, and he slowly turned his head in that direction. Then he did a curious thing. He lay flat of a sudden, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes vigorously.

“That’s rummy!” he murmured beneath his breath. “One of the boats has disappeared, and the others are moving away, and – what does it all mean?”

He rolled on to his back, lifted his head cautiously, and stared at the roof of the cabin. There was the figure of the Dutchman – immovable, looking fantastically huge, and sprawled out at full length. There was no pipe now to be seen, no smoke issued from his lips, while the rifle reposed beside him. Then came a deep, muffled snore. Meinheer Van Somering was asleep.

“Then there is some one near us,” said Dick, swiftly. “Some one is stealing the boats. I must act with caution.”

He had had experience of a midnight marauder before, and he determined on this occasion not to be so easily beaten. He rose to his knees, and crawled along the deck till he reached the Dutchman. A moment later he had the rifle in his hands, and had drawn back the lock. Click! At the crisp sound some one stirred. A dusky figure stood up on one of the boats close by, and commenced to pole lustily. Then a second stood erect, and Dick could hear the splash as his pole fell into the water.

“Stop!” he shouted. “Bring that boat back, or I fire!”

He covered the nearest figure with his weapon, and waited, while his shout was followed immediately by a scuffling behind him, and by the almost instant appearance of Mr Pepson. The latter seemed to take in the position at a glance. His eye detected the boat now so far away, the two remaining ones being poled by the two dark figures, and the huge, lumbering body of the Dutchman, still motionless and asleep.

“Shoot,” he said, quietly.

Dick lifted the weapon again, sighted for his man, and fired. There was a loud shriek, and hardly had the echo of the shot died down when a splash told that the bullet had reached. But our hero was not content. He stretched for the bag, snatched another cartridge, and, having placed it in the rifle, covered the second man. However there was no need to fire, for a second splash told that the miscreant, warned by the fate of his comrade, had leaped overboard.

“What has happened?” demanded Mr Pepson, sharply, but with no trace of excitement in his voice. “You were asleep, for it is barely half-past eight. You found our watchman also asleep, and the boats departing. Did you see any one else?”

“No one,” answered Dick, promptly. “But there must be one other at least. Look! There is a man poling the far boat.”

“And he is too far away for a shot now. I might hit him, but the light is deceptive.”

“Then why not follow sir?” exclaimed Dick. “Johnnie banked the fires, and in a few minutes there should be steam. That boat won’t have a chance. We shall be up with her before she can get far.”

“But not before our goods are stolen. No, we will give chase in one of the other boats,” said Mr Pepson, with decision. “Meinheer, bring the steamer along at once. Dick and I will follow.”

Already he was throwing off the hawser which held the anchor, and, as he did so, Dick seized a pole. A few strokes took the launch close to the moving boats which had been so silently set adrift.

“Hold on, Johnnie, and you too, Meinheer,” called out Mr Pepson. “Now, Dick, get aboard with the gun, and I’ll follow with another. We’ll make one boat fast and pole the other down.”

He ran along the deck of the launch, while Dick leaped into one of the native craft, two of which remained lashed side by side, and were floating away together. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. He sprang back into the launch, seized the bag of cartridges, and satisfying himself that it was well filled, slung it over his shoulder and again sprang into the native boat.

“Better get all ready for the pursuit,” he said to himself. “I’ll set the two boats free, and toss the end of a rope attached to one to Meinheer. He can make it fast aft and follow with the boat in tow.”

He fell upon the lashings with eagerness, and when Mr Pepson appeared from the cabin, carrying a rifle, Dick had the two boats separated, and had tossed a rope attached to one to the Dutchman.

“Catch, Meinheer!” he shouted, for the burly Dutchman, since he had become fully awake, seemed to be endeavouring to collect his wits. The report of the rifle had brought him languidly to his feet, and now he stared at his two comrades in amazement, wholly unable to understand the need for such bustling, or for so much excitement.

“Bud whad is zis?” he demanded. “Is id ze middle of ze nighd, or – whad?”

“It means that you’ve been asleep when you ought to have been keeping watch,” answered Mr Pepson, bluntly. “Some thieves have cut our boats adrift, and one is being poled away. Don’t stare, Meinheer. Take the rope Dick has thrown and make it fast. Then follow as soon as you have steam. Johnnie, get that fire to blaze.”

He stepped into the native craft and took the pole which Dick offered him.

“Ready?” asked Dick.

A loud splash was the only answer, as Mr Pepson let his pole fall into the water. Dick followed suit, and in a little while they were shooting down the river, which in these parts was sufficiently shallow to allow of poling.

“Keep her in near the bank, sir,” sang out Dick. “It gets deeper out there, and I’ve noticed that the fellow who is poling is sometimes unable to bottom. We are getting nearer already. Can we try a shot?”

“Wait,” was the answer. “We have him in any case. He cannot escape us, and if we only keep him in sight he cannot take our goods. Keep on as we are till we are certain of a shot. If he tries to make to the opposite shore, where all is dense shadow, we will drop our poles and fire together.”

Ten minutes later they had overhauled the runaway to some extent, and when half an hour had passed they judged that they were within easy distance.

“Try a shot,” said Mr Pepson. “Your young eyes are better than mine. Don’t hesitate, my lad. These fellows are rogues and would kill us without a thought. We must teach them a lesson.”

Till that moment our hero would not have thought of hesitating, for he had felt the excitement of the chase, and he realised that he had to do with robbers who no doubt would have no scruples in killing him were he to come upon them. But just then the excitement had lessened somewhat. They were overhauling the chase without a doubt, and the figure poling the runaway boat looked so harmless there in the moonlight. Also he appeared to be unarmed. However, an order was an order, and his duty was plain. He dropped his pole into the bottom of the boat, picked up his rifle, and took a careful sight.

“Sight about the middle of his body – no higher,” said Mr Pepson. “That should find a mark.”

Crash! The report of the rifle set the jungle ringing, while it reverberated along the still surface of the river. Then came a shriek, followed by a shout from the shore. The native who poled the boat staggered and almost fell. Then he recovered himself, answered the shout from the shore, and in an instant had swung the boat’s head round in that direction.

“We have him sure enough,” cried Mr Pepson, for the first time showing some trace of excitement. “He is making for the moonlit side, and cannot escape. At least, the boat and its freight are ours again. Drop the rifle and take to the pole.”

They plunged their long poles into the water and sent the craft dancing after the other. But quick as they were, the boat in advance seemed to shoot across the moonlit stretch, and rapidly gained the bank. Again there was a shout, a dark figure ran out into the river, splashing the water loudly. Then a second followed, while the native who had been aboard threw his pole aside and staggered ashore.

“Heavily hit,” gasped Mr Pepson, for the exertion of poling was beginning to tell upon him. “But I was right. We have the boat, and, after all, what more do we want? Pole easily, Dick, and keep an eye on those fellows. Ah, they seem to have run for it. We have nothing to fear from them at least.”

They pushed their craft gently into the shallows, till they were almost beneath the trees. Then, giving one lusty push, Dick stepped over the side and waded, dragging the boat after him. A minute later both were ashore, and were inspecting the other craft.

“We were just in time,” said Mr Pepson, in tones of the greatest satisfaction. “Another few minutes and they would have got clear away, and then good-bye to the expedition, for a time at any rate. Make her fast, Dick, and keep a watch ashore.”

Well was it for both of them that Dick did as he was told. Indeed, from the moment at which he had leaped into the river and commenced to wade, his suspicions had kept him alert with his eyes fixed upon the jungle and bush into which the three dark figures had disappeared. And now he was to find good cause for his wariness, for, of a sudden, as Mr Pepson took the rope which was made fast to the bows of the runaway, and dragged it towards the craft in which they had undertaken the pursuit, a sharp sound came from the depths of the jungle. It was the snapping of a dried twig, a crisp and startling noise which caused both to look up suddenly.

“They are not so far away, I think,” said Dick, in a low voice. “Wouldn’t it be better if we moved away, sir? We are in the full blaze of the moon’s rays here, while they are in the shadow. That’s how that robber managed to get away from me down at the coast.”

Hardly had the words left his lips when a single shot rang out, startling the silence, while the flash of the weapon lit up the immediate surroundings of the bush, and showed a dozen dark figures perhaps, all in the act of running forward. Dick noticed that in the twinkling of an eye, and heard also the click of the missile as it struck a hanging bough some feet in front of him. Then there was a dull thud, that thud which in the old days of large calibre rifles and heavy bullets told unmistakably of a hit. A second later a heavy splash and a sickening gurgle told the young Englishman the horrid truth. His comrade had been struck and had fallen into the shallow water.

It was a terrifying position, and for a second Dick stood rooted to the spot with consternation. Then his courage returned, and with the memory of that glimpse of charging figures which the flash of the rifle had given him, he stooped, clutched his fallen friend, and staggered to the boat. Half throwing him into it, he leaned across the thwarts, seized his rifle, and extracted a cartridge from the bag. He had still a moment to spare, for the patter of feet and the snap of many a twig told him that the enemy were not yet quite at hand.

“They are bound to kill us both here in the light,” he thought, as the prominence of their position flashed across his brain. “I’ll get into the shadow.”

He had always been noted for his agility, and on this fine night our hero surpassed himself. Fear gave him strength, or else he could hardly have lifted his comrade as he had done. And now the same stimulus seemed to have sharpened his wits. He leaped at the gunwale of the boat and pushed the craft into deeper water. Then with a parting thrust of his leg he scrambled aboard, while the boat, impelled by the push he had given it, shot across the moonlit shadows, and burst its way into the deep shade of an overhanging tree. Dick clutched a bough and arrested its further progress. Then leaning his shoulder against the same friendly limb of the tree, he raised the rifle to his shoulder. There was a chorus of loud shouts, the splash of many feet, and in a second ten dusky figures burst into the full light of the moon and rushed towards the tree which hid their quarry. Not till then did Dick fully realise his danger. He had imagined till now that his foes were natives from the river-banks, thieves who had come out to rob the expedition during the night. But there was one amongst the group charging down upon him who showed that he was mistaken. There was no chance of his being in error, for the brilliant moon lit the scene too well, and showed before him the half-caste James Langdon, who had so recently fled from the coast, carrying Dick’s store of gold with him.

“Then he at least shall suffer now, whatever happens to the others,” exclaimed our hero. Lifting his weapon again he covered the half-caste, waited till he felt sure of his aim, and pressed the trigger. Once again there was a shout, and one of the unfortunate natives who aided the rascally half-caste, leaped high into the air to fall next instant with a splash into the water.

“Rush! He is now unarmed! Cut the dog to pieces!” shouted James Langdon.

There was an ugly gleam in the eyes of the robbers as they heard the shout, and slight though Dick’s knowledge was of the language of these Fantis, he recognised the meaning of the words. Quick as thought he threw his weapon down and drew his revolver. They were close to the tree now, and nothing but the darkness baffled them. But there was their disadvantage, and Dick made the most of it. Singling out the foremost he fired full in his face, and then, ere the report died down, pulled heavily on the bough and dragged himself and the native boat still farther into the shadow. A second later the weapon spoke again, and another of the miscreants fell. But still their commander urged them on.

“Think of the rifles and other goods,” he shouted. “There is only one between you and the prize, and he is only a boy. Rush him! Cut him to the chin! Stand aside and I will lead you. Now, are all ready?”

He turned to look at his men, and waved a native sword overhead to encourage them. Then he peered into the dense shadow and was in the very act of leading a final charge when there was a sudden and unexpected interruption. A single shot rang out from the river, while one of the enemy fell on his face in the water and disappeared from sight.

“Ahoy! Mine friends! Are you zere?” came in the guttural tones of the Dutchman.

“Fire on them,” shouted Dick, levelling his revolver again and sending a shot into the group. “Fire, Meinheer! Drive them off. Mr Pepson is badly wounded.”

An instant later the nose of the steam launch shot into view, some fifty yards from the bank, and Dick caught a glimpse between the leaves of the big tree which sheltered him of the anxious face of Johnnie, peering from over the engine-well, and of the portly figure of the Dutchman, a portion of which was hidden by the cabin aft. He stood there prominent in the rays of the moon, a rifle in his hands, and his short sword attached to his side. Then, as his eye lit again on the group of natives, he lifted the weapon, and hardly had the report of Dick’s revolver died down when there was a flash, and the half-caste who had formerly robbed our hero, and who had now made such an artful attack upon the boats of the expedition, clapped his hand to his thigh and gave vent to a loud bellow. Then he turned and fired a shot at the Dutchman, a shot which flew past in the air, screaming and hissing towards the opposite bank of the river. But long before it could have reached that destination the robber had swung round on his heel, and with a shout of defiance had raced for the shadows. After him Dick sent the remainder of his magazine, while Meinheer Van Somering, when he had recovered from the consternation into which the shriek of the shot had thrown him, followed his example, much to our hero’s trepidation, for the bullets flew on either hand, cutting a shower of leaves from the trees.

“Steady, Meinheer!” he shouted. “You will be hitting us soon. We are here under the tree. I had to seek shelter from the light, for they would have picked us off easily. Bring the launch in and I will wade out to you. I fear that Mr Pepson is seriously hurt.”

Leaping overboard he pushed the boat clear of the tree and of the shadow, and soon had it alongside the launch, for the latter steamed gently into the shallows. Then the leader of the expedition was lifted aboard, the two boats were made fast to the stern of the steamer, and they pushed out into the stream.

“Better make for the far shore,” said Dick. “Then we shall not be treated to long shots.”

“Bud zese wicked robbers, Meinheer,” gasped the Dutchman. “Shall we led zem go free? Shall zey escape?”

“We can do nothing more,” was Dick’s answer, given with decision. “They are gone long ago. The forest has swallowed those who are alive. Let them run, Meinheer, and do not trouble any more about them at the present time. To-morrow, when there is light, we will visit the bank again and see what has happened to them. For the moment let us look to Mr Pepson. Now, Johnnie, steer us for the far side, and when you reach the shadow, come to a stop just inside its edge. Whatever you do, keep steam up, and have the propeller just moving, so that we shall not be drifted down-stream. Now we will light the lamp and see to our friend.”

Without hesitation he took the lead, now that Mr Pepson was incapacitated, for he realised in a moment that Meinheer Van Somering was not to be relied on in such an emergency. Indeed, he had been struck with amazement at the boldness already displayed by his stout friend, for who would have expected, knowing him as they did, that he would have dared to stand there so conspicuously on the deck of the launch and fire upon the robbers? Meinheer Van Somering had gone up in Dick’s estimation. He had proved that he had some store of courage after all. But he lacked self-control. At this moment when he should have been cool and thoughtful, for the danger had passed, he was tramping the deck from end to end, causing the stout launch to heel to either side. And every minute he would halt and stare at the forest which had just been left. At such moments his fist would close round his rifle, while his finger would feel for the trigger.

“Mein word!” he cried. “Bud zey would have killed us! Zey were robbers and murderers. Ah! I shod two of zem. Meinheer Dick, you saw me do id.”

“I saw,” growled our hero, “but we can talk of that later. Come and help with the lamp. Put your rifle down and leave the robbers to take care of themselves. Come, Meinheer, our comrade may be bleeding to death.”

There was a tone of command now in his voice, and at the sound Meinheer dropped his weapon and came aft. Already Dick had been able to find the lamp, and just as the Dutchman reached him he struck a match and lit the wick of the candle.

“Hold the lamp, please,” he said. “Higher, so that I can get a good view. Now, what has happened? I heard the bullet strike heavily. Ah! Thank heaven! He is alive.”

“And zere, I zink, is ze wound. See, Meinheer Dick, zere is blood. Oh, mine poor friend! How he has been hurd!”

“Higher!” commanded Dick, as the Dutchman, forgetful of his request, lowered the lamp. “That is right. Keep it there, please, till I have ripped the coat open. Ah, here is another wound in the head. That will account for his being insensible.”

Together, the Dutchman’s tendency to undue excitement arrested by the coolness displayed by his young companion, they cut the shoulder of the coat away and inspected the wound. Then they went in search of bandages and dressings, for the thoughtful Mr Pepson had included a cabinet of drugs and instruments in the outfit of the expedition. Neither of the two friends who looked to the wounds had had previous experience, but common sense helped them, while the lamp allowed them to read the clearly printed directions contained in the cabinet. They bathed the wounds in the shoulder and the scalp, and applied the dressings. Then they put the arm in a sling, and placed it across the wounded man’s chest.

“He is coming to,” said Dick, after a while. “We will give him a few drops of water. Hold his head so, Meinheer. Now I will pour a little between his lips.”

An hour later their friend was conscious again, and was sitting up with his back leaning against the gunwale.

“I feel dizzy and my head aches dreadfully,” he said, with a plucky smile. “Look in the cabinet, Dick, and you will find something there which will quiet me. Then perhaps I shall get to sleep and be myself to-morrow. Never fear, my friends. The wounds are not so serious, for the gash in my shoulder is merely a flesh wound, and the bone is quite uninjured. As to the scalp wound, I am a fortunate man. I think that the bullet must have glanced from a bough, for I heard a sound just before I was struck. Then it hit my shoulder, and as it flew on just touched my head, glancing from the bone, and hitting me hard enough to stun me. By the way, I was standing in the water. I suppose Dick pulled me out again? That is another debt I owe him.”

“You ought to keep quiet,” was our hero’s answer, as he arrived with a bottle and a glass in his hand. “Here we are, sir. A teaspoonful in a little water, and then silence. There, drink it up, and sleep. We will look to the safety of the boats.”

He held the glass to Mr Pepson’s lips and watched as he feebly drained it, for there was little doubt that the leader was sadly injured, and only his pluck had allowed him to chatter at all. However, he obediently drank the mixture, and seemed to be glad to settle down on the rug which the Dutchman produced. Another rug was thrown over him, a cushion placed under the wounded limb, and the lamp removed from before his eyes. Dick and Meinheer retired to the far end of the launch and stood there chatting in whispers, till, in less than half an hour, the deep breathing of the sufferer told that he was asleep.

All this while the launch, with the boats trailing out behind her, lay in the dense shadow of the river-bank, her propeller barely moving, so that she just held her place in the river. Close at hand could be heard the murmur of the leaves in the forest, the chatter of monkeys, and the call of night birds, arrested a little while ago by the reports of the rifles. And on the other side a fine moonlit vista was displayed. The surface of the river Pra lay spread out in the rays of the pale African orb, while the water rippled and slid down toward the sea, seeming to be particularly peaceful on this lovely night. Looking at its shining surface, and at the wonderful lights and shadows beyond scattered along the face of the jungle, one almost wondered whether the coming of the robbers were not after all a dream. Whether murder and theft had, in fact, been attempted, and whether away on that far shore there actually lay the dark forms of the attacking natives who had lost their lives in the bold and dastardly attempt. But there could be no doubt. As Dick Stapleton stood in his shirt sleeves upon the roof of the tiny cabin, rifle in hand, and cartridge bag about his sturdy shoulders, his eager eyes searched every shadow, and followed every line of river and forest which was illuminated. Suddenly his arm shot out. His figure became rigid, while his finger pointed across the water.

“There is one of the rascals, at any rate,” he said. “He has come to look to his comrades, and no doubt thinks that we are far away by now. See, Meinheer, I could pick him off from here as if he were a bird, and I should be justified. But that’s not the sort of game I like to play. They’re beaten. They’ve had a lesson, and I fancy Master James Langdon will remember it. As for us, I should say that we have had a very narrow escape.”

There was a grunt of approval and acquiescence from Van Somering, a puff of smoke proceeded from his lips, and he growled out a reply.

“Mein friend,” he said, in condescending tones, “we are conquerors, is id nod so? Zen zere is no need to kill more of zese men. Led zem go peacefully while we make ze mosd of ze nighd which remains. Meinheer, id is near ze hour of midnighd. Your wadch should commence now. I will sleeb, for I am weary.”

He seemed to have forgotten the fact that it was his drowsiness which had almost brought disaster to the expedition, and that Dick’s watch should have commenced at nine and ended at twelve. With a grunt he rolled along the deck, leaving our hero in command of the situation.