through the
scrub. He hesitated whether to begin operations immediately or wait until
after they had discovered the flight and were further intoxicated. Yet the
excitement of the loss of the prisoner might sober them a little, Birnier
reflected. No, it did not matter even if they were completely sober. The
spirits of the night would be perhaps more real to them then than when
they were drugged by alcohol. Yet he would wait. They might come as far as
the river with lanterns and should he be compelled to take to the water he
would have to take the risk of crocodiles seizing him. Almost had he begun
to curse the askaris for being so slow, when a rifle cracked and a bullet
hummed over his head.

He scrambled hastily down the bank, thinking for a moment that he had been
spotted. But it must have been a random shot. The chanting ceased. A
hoarse shout from the sentry was echoed by uproar from the others.

Birnier crawled up the bank cautiously and peered. He could not see well,
for one eye was nearly closed by mosquito bites, but he could make out
vague forms passing and repassing across the glow of the fire. Lights
glimmered. Amid shouts and yells, figures began to advance towards the
river. Whether the water was deep or shallow he could not know; only could
he make out in the sheen of the stars a dark patch of reed or bushes for
some yards. He slid down the slope as noiselessly as possible, although
the pursuers were making noise enough to scare all the spirits in Africa.
He sank to his chest, standing on stones. He waded out a little, buried
his head and shoulders behind a half-submerged bush, and remained still.

For some time he could only hear the shouts and yells. He kept the water
up to his chin and continuously splashed his face in the endeavour to
slacken the efforts of the mosquitoes. The cries approached. He saw men
outlined against the stars and then some gleams of lanterns. Something
stirred ponderously near to him. It might be a crocodile, but he dared not
move. The figures seemed to stay on the top of the bank for hours. He
remained rigid, expecting a swirl of water and teeth.

Suddenly a spurt of flame shot out above him and was followed by a
fusillade of shots in the direction of up river. Had they spotted Mungongo
or were they merely letting drive at a bush or the spirits in general? The
latter was most probable. The water swirled near to him. All his will
power was required not to leap frantically for th